


In Love and Death

by likethepaint (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-03-22
Updated: 2009-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 41,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/likethepaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the aftermath of the Sixteen Candles video. After a particularly nasty brawl Joe and Patrick try to pick up the pieces and carry on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
__

It’s not as easy as willing it all to be right.

–

Before a hunt they always checked their weapons, and made sure to have a meal. No one wanted to get out there and find that they had a bad weapon or end up so hungry by the end of the night that they couldn’t see straight. All they wanted to do was kill as many vampires as possible and get back to the warehouse safely.

Andy and Joe were eating in relative silence, while Patrick was tucked into his work area as normal, cussing at Joe’s weapon; no matter what he tried he couldn’t get the thing to work like it should. He tended to get pretty obsessive over little things like that, stopping a weapon from jamming, or putting the finishing touches to his latest invention and quite often he’d forget to stop for food or sleep and one of the others would have to come and drag him away.

It was an unwritten rule that when Patrick got like that the others left him alone unless there was an urgent reason to bother him. Usually they only bothered him when he was about to pass out or something, because they all understood that getting the weapons right was important. Patrick generally stopped working a few hours before a hunt, but on occasion he’d try to work right up to the last second in a desperate attempt to finish something before they left.

Once Joe had finished and left his plate in the sink, he took Patrick’s dinner over to him. It tended to be easier to get Patrick to eat while he was busy if he didn’t actually have to move away from his work, that way he could carry on reading through notes and looking over things.

“I brought you some food, dude. You need to eat before we leave,” he said, gesturing slightly to the plate while Patrick tested the weapon again, grimacing when it failed to fire.

“No, what I really need to do is fix this, Joe.”

“I thought you said it was like no big deal, just a small thing.”

“It is, I suppose. I just don’t want it to jam on you tonight.”

“Well, maybe I can like, help you or something and then once it’s fixed you can eat.”

“I don’t know; I don’t even know what’s wrong with it. It should fire when I do this, but it keeps jam…” the weapon suddenly fired at the floor, narrowly missing Patrick’s feet. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, that’s just exactly what it’s supposed to do.”

“So, you fixed it?”

“Yes, no. I didn’t actually do anything before I tested it that time.”

“But it’s fixed?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you should eat something and then you can like test it again before we go.”

“If it jams while we’re on the hunt I’ll kill you for distracting me.”

“If it jams while we’re on the hunt, I don’t think you’ll like, get the chance to kill me,” he laughed nervously.

“Joe.”

Joe pulled him into a bear hug, “It’s all good, dude, if it jams on the hunt I’ll just have to kick their asses the old fashioned way.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt because I didn’t fix this, Joe.”

“Well, I don’t want you getting hurt because you didn’t eat, dude. C’mon, just eat it quickly and then we can double check the weapon still works and still have time for like, a cuddle before we leave.”

“Just a cuddle, huh?” Patrick said teasingly.

“Eat fast or we won’t even have time for that.”

“I don’t know, we’ve still got plenty of time, aren’t you overestimating yourself a little?”

“It’s like pretty much sunset any minute, dude. We’ve got maybe fifteen, twenty minutes at the most.”

“What? Shit Joe! Why didn’t you tell me I’d worked this late?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to eat this whole time, man.”

“I just wish you’d told me how late it’d gotten; now there’s not enough time to do everything I have to.”

“Dude, calm down, there’s still enough time for food and a weapon check, that’s all you have to do.”

“What if it’s not fixed though, Joe, what if it messes up on you again and Pete doesn’t have your back? I couldn’t,” he cut himself off abruptly, looking away from Joe.

“C’mon, just eat the dinner and then like we can worry about what happens next then. You can’t go out there without eating first.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, I’ll eat the meal.”

“Eat fast, then snuggles,” he teased, testing the weapon a few times to make sure it was still working fine. On the desktop Patrick’s phone vibrated; Joe snatched it up, frowning at the caller I.D. as he passed it over.

Across the room, Andy had been practicing again, throwing vicious kicks and punches at the punch bag and Pete had been making enough noise that they knew he was awake even though they hadn’t seen much of him. As Patrick spoke quietly to the priest, Joe moved the blend they’d prepared earlier from the fridge. Patrick was still trying to find something they could add to make it slightly easier for Pete to drink, but the attempts were few and far between. Secretly, none of them had much hope for a ‘magic’ ingredient, but trying occasionally meant none of them had to admit they’d given up hope of something else. It was the same as when Patrick would sit down with huge, ancient books and trawl through them, looking for some small indication of a cure for Pete, even though he’d already confided in Joe he thought it would take longer than a lifetime to do.

Extensive testing had proved having the blend straight from the fridge didn’t do Pete any actual harm, or affect the blend significantly, but Pete really didn’t like drinking it that way, so when there was a pre-prepared blend, Joe always tried to anticipate Pete needing it and take it out so it warmed a little. It wasn’t much, because Pete would usually make the blend when he needed to drink it, but it was just something Joe could do to help.

Patrick’s phone snapped shut, but he made no move to collect his dinner or explain why the priest had phoned him. In fact he didn’t really make any attempt to move at all, sitting very still with his phone clasped between his hands, staring at it.

“What did he want, dude? Arranging to bring some more water?”

“No, no, not that. Joe, I…” he cut himself off, looking crushed.

“Dude, what’s up?” He’d been able to hear the panic in his voice, enough to make Andy stop and look over, even though they were all completely used to Joe’s tendency to worry too much (and how it predated any real need to).

“They got Dirty,” he mumbled, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

The door to Pete’s room had slid open slowly, cutting off Joe before he could ask who had got Dirty, like he didn’t already know. He’d taken one look at the scene and laughed nervously, “Whoa, who died?”

Patrick had raised his head a little, somehow managing to be even more pale than normal, voice tense, “Don’t.”

“Oh,” his face fell; they were all too used to this, there were often losses, people who got too close and got hurt. “Who?”

“Pete,” Patrick had begun softly again.

“Who?” he demanded, more viciously than he really needed to.

Patrick sighed, “Dirty. Pete, they…” he cut himself off, unable to finish. He didn’t know many details; the priest hadn’t either, but they all had a rough idea of what must have happened anyway, of who ‘they’ were.

“Get ready, we leave in ten minutes.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Five minutes.” He stormed to the kitchen, crashing around, slamming the cupboards.

“Fine.” Patrick’s voice was tight and Joe hadn’t been sure who he was talking to.

Andy had gone back to the punch bag and Patrick had been doing his best to hold it all together; Joe had just felt numb. Dirty was, had been, their eyes and ears and a good friend who stuck by them. He’d wrapped an arm around Patrick, pulling him close. Patrick had curled into him and tucked his head into Joe’s shoulder.

Patrick’s unfinished dinner had hit the wall in the kitchen, along with the container Pete’s blend had been in. Andy hadn’t even flinched; they’d expected it. Joe had glanced over as much as he could and he couldn’t see the blend amongst the wreckage so he assumed Pete had at least had the common sense to drink it first. It wasn’t exactly unusual behavior for Pete, given everything, but it wasn’t common anymore, either. They’d run out of any kind of cup within two weeks of Pete returning, but Pete was more in control these days. Coming off a hunt without feeling like they achieved anything or a plan foiled was more likely to send Pete into a quiet angry sulk than cause him to smash up the entire warehouse the way he had when he’d first been turned.

It had been an awful few months for all of them, but they’d adjusted and they were slowly carving their own version of a ‘normal’ life out of this one. Officially the band was on the backburner, but they were still playing whenever they could, because none of them could really give up on the music. Sometimes Patrick found himself humming a new song without ever having realised he’d been writing one, and never knowing if he’d even get a chance to jot it down, let alone come back to it and fix it up. With taking careful notes on his research and trying to find a cure, or perfecting the blend and the weapons there was often not enough time at the end of the day to even spend two minutes on a song. But he tried, he always tried. Not that it mattered, because even if he had an album full of songs, he wouldn’t have the words to go with them, not since Pete got turned and started keeping his words to himself. He knew if they ever found the time to seriously sit down and write Pete would have enough lyrics to fill albums for a lifetime, put words to every single scrap of music in his head for the rest of his life, even if that was forever.

Pete was out of the door and in the car before he’d even had a chance to clean up the dinner; he took a long mournful look at it, and grabbed his weapon. Right, _he thought_ , let’s do this.

–

It was bright outside when I finally got back to the warehouse, but once I was inside it was dark and quiet, and even though I would rather have had everyone back safe already, the peace was somewhat welcoming. Pete wouldn’t return until after sunset, I could be sure of that, but I had no idea about Andy or Patrick; I hadn’t seen either of them since the brawl.

I kind of just wanted to like, collapse onto my bed and sleep for hours or something, but instead I dragged my ass over to the couch and collapsed there, just for the couple of hours until the guys got back. Then I could like kidnap Patrick away for a cuddle and then sleep for like, forever.

Patrick was pretty great for stealing cuddles from, and like not just cuddles, or whatever, if we ever get like, a break from being action heroes and stuff... But it’s like, he’s totally awesome, even if he does build weapons that jam when I’d really, really like for them to just shoot the chick about to fucking bite me or something.

We’d been together forever, practically; since we were teenagers, back before we even knew this sort of shit went down. I’d liked him for like, forever, but I swore he’d never go for someone like me, never even consider it. Besides, as far as I’d known he wasn’t even gay, but we were good friends, and that was awesome. And then he’d invited me to this record fair in the city, that he’d been excited about for weeks, couldn’t stop like, going on about it at practice and shit. I’d figured he’d have at least invited Pete as well, but it had been just the two of us the whole day. I hadn’t realized it was a date until afterwards when we stopped for pizza, and that should have been like, majorly awkward but it was just something for us to laugh about, really.

I was seriously exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep until the guys got home, couldn’t relax until I knew they were safe. Still, I couldn’t help but think how nice it was going to be to crawl into bed with Patrick once he got home and just sleep; it’s actually like, really hard to sleep in a jail cell, especially with like, freaky vampire-cops watching your every move. And you don’t know whether one of them’s gonna turn around and think like, ‘Hey, you seem like you might be a nice meal’ or something.

We’d gone out on a pretty serious brawl; they were getting more and more frequent though, more and more usual for an evening to be spent like that than for us to be able to hunt the damn things down on our own grounds. I liked it better that way, we were like… much better prepared, people tended to get hurt in the brawls.

Over in the kitchen area, Patrick’s dinner and the smashed remains of the plate and the container Pete’s blend had been in were still all over the floor, like some kind of nasty reminder of what we’d lost. I set about carefully cleaning them up, so at least the others wouldn’t have to come home to it.

Almost as soon as I’d finished and sat back down the door smashed shut, and even though it was dark in the warehouse I could see Andy walking over.

“Where’s Patrick?” Andy threw himself down onto the couch, like, practically on top of me. I’d been kind of expecting Patrick to come back with Andy, with like, excuses about getting lunch or whatever before they returned.

“He’s not back yet.”

Andy frowned. “It’s nearly sunset, he’ll be back soon.”

I trusted Andy, I mean, he's my go-to guy and he's like a brother to me – he's never let me down - but at the same time I like, kind of felt that there must be something wrong, something keeping Patrick away. He’s normally like, the first back; desperate to scribble furiously in his little notebook and keep track of everything that’s happened.

We’d been talking for hours when the door slid open again, cutting Andy off pretty much mid-sentence. This would be Patrick back, safe with Pete, bringing me back my cuddles or whatever – it had to be. But it wasn't. Pete hardly even glanced at us when he walked through, going straight for our room.

“He’s not here,” Andy called to him. We hadn’t spoken about Patrick since he came in; I wasn’t ready for some kind of in-depth analysis of why Patrick was still out there alone while we were all sat here doing nothing. I should have gone straight out like as soon as I got back; anything could have happened to him while I’ve been sat around. As soon as he got back – and I basically ignored the little part of me that corrected if – I’d totally make it up to him with like, whatever he wanted.

Pete stopped dead in his tracks, which is totally a pun I’d have normally shared with the guys, but at that point it’s just wasn’t funny. “What do you mean, 'he’s not here'?” He spun around to face Andy and me, his expression completely unreadable. Even though I’ve spent years like hanging out with him, or whatever, Patrick was always better at figuring him out. Pete and I are like close and everything – we go way back, back to before all this shit kicked off – but Patrick’s always been his best friend.

“He’s not back yet, Pete,” Andy said calmly, like there was nothing extraordinary happening, but like, I knew it was just because he’s good at holding it together. He’s like an older brother to me, or something, and it’s rare that he’ll let any of this visibly get to him.

"How can he not be back yet? He’s always back, dude.” He turned back towards our room, looking frustrated and angry, “Patrick?” he yelled, “Patrick, not funny dude, just come out or whatever. Joke’s over.”

He searched the warehouse, and there was a small part of me that wanted to believe it was some elaborate practical joke or whatever, and that Patrick was just hiding out in the basement or something. I could see the exact moment he gave up; going tense and heading straight for the door.

“I can’t just sit here,” Pete shouted, and it made me feel even sicker, even though I knew he hadn’t meant to imply ‘like you are.’ “I’ve got to find him, before –” He stopped abruptly, leaving the sentence hanging, but it was pretty obvious what he was going to say. “I’ve just got to find him,” he said, softer this time, like he was really considering the possibilities of what he might be going to find.

“Pete, he’ll come back soon enough,” Andy insisted. “He’s probably just taking his sweet time for a change.” He had a point; I probably wouldn’t have been as worried if Patrick was normally slow about getting back, it’s just he’d never like, hung around or anything, he’d always come straight back to write up his notes. Pete hovered by the door, like he was torn between going out hunting and wanting to believe Andy. “Just sit down, Pete, give him a little longer.”

Pete threw himself onto the other couch, sulking, probably because he like, didn’t get his own way, even though he could have still gone. Everyone was quiet for a little while, and I closed my eyes to try to enjoy the peace; I was exhausted, and I just wanted to sleep forever or something, but I couldn’t stop worrying about everything. With Pete back the whole thing seemed more real, like Patrick was definitely out there alone and possibly hurt. Or worse.

The door slid open again; I guessed because like Pete had won the argument or whatever, and was going out, but when I looked up he wasn’t anywhere near the door. Instead Patrick was staggering across the room, looking like he was a maybe little hurt, or just tired or whatever, but I was mostly concerned with getting to him as quickly as possible and wrapping him in a giant hug.

It was what I’d been waiting for all day, but there was something that was just like, not right. I had so many questions about where he’d been and why he’d stayed out, but none of them seemed more important than having some cuddles and maybe some more sleep, proper sleep, in like a real bed, not the shitty naps on the couch I’d had all day. I felt more relaxed than I had in hours, knowing we’d all made it back safely; slightly hurt, but safe.

Patrick was freezing; not just like been-out-all-night-worrying-you-sick cold, but cold kinda like Pete is when he’s all over you. He had seemed reluctant to hug for too long, pulling back long before I’d had the chance to share some body heat or whatever.

I figured he was just like, cold and tired and not really in the mood for anything other than sleep. I kinda felt the same; I was exhausted even though I’d done nothing all day except worry. Pete was bursting with questions; the effort it was taking him to like, keep them in was practically visible, but even he seemed to get that Patrick wasn’t in the mood to deal with it and now wasn’t the time to push him.

He gave me a worried look when Patrick left the room, but stayed quiet about whatever was bothering him, so I figured it couldn’t have been that important; Pete shared practically everything with us, even if we completely did not need to know.

Patrick was sat on the edge of the bed, in his boxers and the old shirt he usually slept in, looking almost just like my Patrick should, except he seemed nervous and kind of distracted. He kept rubbing at something on his neck; I figured maybe he’d been hurt, and like, I didn’t want it getting infected or anything if it was nasty.

So I sat down next to him, pulling his hand away so I could like just check it wasn’t anything that needed to be dealt with straight away; I hadn’t noticed anything obvious before, but he’d had his jacket on and everything and it wasn’t like I’d really been looking.

I knew what I was seeing as soon as I moved his hand, but like, I kinda didn’t want to believe it. There were two small scabs on his neck, close together where the fangs had pierced the skin; they already looked days old but I knew that was just him healing fast; they couldn’t have been more than like, a day old at the most.

Patrick mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and I kinda wanted to say ‘no, I’m sorry dude, I should have been there, should have protected you’ but it was like... I couldn’t say anything. I could see he was getting kind of choked and I wanted so badly to protect him, pulling him tightly into me and pressing my face into his neck, even though it was pretty much too late for that. He didn’t really smell like my Patrick any more, not the way he had every other time we’d ended up like this after a hard day. He smelt kinda like Pete; like death. But I still didn’t let him go.

When I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, he still looked like my Patrick. He was like, maybe a little paler or whatever, and I knew he’d have the teeth, but he didn’t look like the monster out of my dreams or anything. He was still teary, and I just wanted to change everything; go back and protect him.

“I’ll fix this; I’ll like find a cure or something dude,” I promised him; there had to be something, there had to be a way to make everything okay. Patrick had already found the blend for Pete, made it so that he no longer needed to like, drink blood or whatever; so I was pretty convinced that there would be some kind of cure.

I could tell he wasn’t convinced; I really couldn’t blame him, it sounded so impossible, but like, I couldn’t just write this off or whatever and move on. I was sure there had to be something I could do.

He started practically babbling about how it wouldn’t work and there wasn’t a cure, wasn’t anything any of us could do. I kind of... I knew he’d been looking for a cure for Pete for months, and the way he was saying it kinda made me feel like he knew for a fact there was no way to help him.

I tugged him slightly closer, rubbing softly at his back. It hurt to think that maybe there really was nothing I could do about this; maybe Patrick would be like this forever, while I had to just like, sit back and watch and know that maybe if I’d just been more careful, paid more attention to him or something, maybe I could have stopped him from like getting bitten in the first place.

We weren’t really talking anymore by the time Patrick started falling asleep. It had gotten pretty late, I guessed; we’d been talking round in circles for hours. It was probably like close to sunrise or whatever, but we didn’t have to worry; all the windows were already completely blacked out for Pete.

“You should like, get some sleep or whatever, dude,” I told him when he tried to hide another yawn against my chest. He made a quiet sleepy sound, not quite an agreement but not a protest either. I helped him shift onto the bed, pulling the covers up and stripping down to my boxers to climb in as well.

I leant over to give him a quick kiss goodnight, but he like jerked away from me, rolling onto his side to face the wall. I sat there for a while, just watching him, kinda lame but whatever; he didn’t even kind of like look any different from the back with the covers pulled up high. I’d been holding it together all day, trying not to think the worst, think he was dead, and then trying to hold him together, too. I cuddled up behind him and tried to shake the feeling that he was pushing me away.

He fell asleep long before I did; exhausted and probably weak from all he’d had to go through. I still felt kind of guilty that I hadn’t been there to protect him, but I was just so glad to like have him, even though it had come at a cost. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t come back.

Patrick was still asleep when I woke up, curled up against me the same as always. It could have been any time, really, but I could hear Pete banging around in the kitchen, or whatever; I figured it was past sunset already.

I didn’t really want to wake him by moving; he was so tired when he got back... So I sort of used the time to kind of think things over or whatever. I knew things would be a little different for us now, what with Patrick having been turned, but I was sure we could make it work out somehow; because, fuck - we'd been working around Pete long enough...

By the time Patrick woke up I’d like, worked out what I was going to do and thrown away any lie-ins I could possibly have for like, the next year, basically. I was hoping it wouldn’t take too long to find a cure, if I managed to look in all the right places, but I was willing to look for as long as it took to find one, if it meant fixing this.

I was kind of just thinking about where I could start looking when Patrick started clenching his fist against my chest. He wasn’t really moving much, like he was only just starting to wake up or something. He kept shuffling slightly, like he was trying to get closer, even though I already had him like, pulled as close as possible. If it wasn’t for the icy skin it’d be hard to think that this Patrick, the one who shuffled closer like always and made the same soft sleepy noises in the back of his throat when I rubbed his arm, was any different to the Patrick who’d been here a few nights ago. It didn’t matter if he was now though, he was still Patrick.

“Morning,” I murmured, kissing him tenderly as he started to wake up properly. He didn’t like, flinch away like he had the night before and I felt a little more relaxed or something, like I at least knew he wasn’t pushing me away.

Patrick lifted his head slightly, giving me a small kiss back. Any other morning we might have like, taken advantage of being able to stay in bed or whatever. But like, neither of us were really in the mood for anything more than a lazy lie-in.

We both knew that we couldn’t stay in bed all day, kind of, and as soon as we got up I was pretty sure Pete was gonna pounce on Patrick or something. He’d kept pretty quiet when Patrick had come back; let him sleep... but like, there was only so long Pete could stay quiet for. I couldn’t blame him though; there were questions I wanted answered too.

Pete was hunched over his notebook or something, in the corner; it’s pretty typical to find him like that, writing stuff, lyrics or whatever, for the rare chance we ever have to write more songs. It shouldn’t have been bothered me. Except his best friend, our best friend, had just come home dead, and that was a pretty big deal for all of us.

Andy was like the other side of the room, pounding stake after stake into the wall targets. They noticed us as soon as we came in. Pete could probably smell us and it had gotten pretty much impossible to creep up on Andy, but they didn’t like make much of a big deal about it. Pete glanced up from his lap briefly, but then went back to whatever he was writing. I didn’t see Andy look over, but he was probably watching out of his peripheral vision or whatever; he was getting like, scarily good at that, too. Not that I could complain if it like, meant we all came back at the end of the day.

Patrick curled up beside me on the sofa, kinda like he was craving the contact or something. He seemed kind of out of it, a little, just absently snuggling into me; making himself comfortable. Pete came back still Pete; though he was angrier and more prone to bad moods he was still Pete. I didn’t want to think about the chance that maybe Patrick would change into some monster or something. Vampire or not, right now he was still Patrick, even if he was distracted, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Pete waited patiently, far more than I’d ever seen him before, but eventually he cracked. I guessed he was like, remembering what it had been like for him the first few days, how disoriented he’d been and trying to make that easier for Patrick. But at the same time we’d all known there was things we needed to find out; even Patrick would have been aware of that. None of us were annoyed, although Patrick seemed to tense up against me as the questioning started, like he didn’t really want to deal with it. I remembered his rambling from the night before, and I knew he blamed himself – thought it was like, his own stupidity or incompetency that got him in the situation even though no one else was thinking that. He’d been mumbling about leaving, but I’d put a stop to that straight away; we’d coped fine with Pete and we’d cope fine with him.

“Who?” he asked, throwing his notebook aside and pulling his knees up to his chest. It sounded kind of like the words hurt him to say, and I honestly couldn’t like, blame him. I wasn’t ready to deal with this, wasn’t ever going to be ready to deal with this.

“I don’t know Pete, I…” he trailed off. “They trapped me; I thought they were being attacked.”

“And then they attacked you?” he demanded. Patrick just nodded.

Suddenly the things he was saying the night before made like, a lot more sense, he hadn’t explained what had happened, and I’d just assumed he’d been unable to fight them off any longer and they’d bitten him. I had like, no idea he’d been tricked, but once I did I felt even more protective of him, and understood his guilt a lot more. Not that he, like, had any reason to feel guilty or anything, we’d all fallen into traps at some point, Patrick was just the unlucky one who hadn’t gotten out in time.

Pete stood up, fists clenched at his sides, and like, looking at the door like he was seriously contemplating going and ripping their heads off right then. Andy shook his head though, and I had to agree with him, I wanted to like, kill them with my bare hands, wanted to do worse than that. But it wasn’t the time, we needed to stay put, make ourselves strong again before we went picking fights or whatever.

For a second it looked like Pete was going to disappear anyway, just walk straight out the door and leave us. He’d like, done it before, left us for days without a clue where he’d gone or if he was coming back, but that was before, back when he had only just been turned, back when we weren’t always sure what we were doing. It didn’t feel like we were much better off now, or anything, but we stuck together, and I knew that made us stronger.

“We end this tomorrow,” Pete snarled, stalking off to the basement, and we all knew what he meant, but there wasn’t anything to end. Not anything we could end tomorrow. I wasn’t going to give up hope on finding a cure, but… it wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to come quickly. The best we had was like, trying to track down the monsters who did it and kill them, but we’d been like, trying to do that for Pete for months and gotten no where.

Andy returned to his stakes, and I like, tightened my arm around Patrick. He was shaking slightly, face tucked into my shoulder, and I could feel my t-shirt getting slightly damp or something, but I wasn’t going to call him out on it. I knew he hated it when we knew he was crying.

“It’ll be fine, dude,” I reassured him, kissing the top of his head through his hat, and he shook his head.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispered.

“Hey, we’re still here, you’ve still got me.”

“I’m a…” he choked off, refusing to look at me. “I’m – look at me, Joe. You can’t seriously say this changes nothing.”

I knew he was right, it was going to change things, but I couldn’t help but be like, insanely grateful he’d come back at all. “Pete’s fine, why can’t you be fine?”

“I’m not Pete.”

“No, you’re you, and I totally love you dude, don’t ask me to throw that away.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Pete’s never bitten me, so why should you?”

“How can you be okay with this?”

“I love you, I seriously, seriously love you, and you’re still Patrick. That hasn’t changed.”

“I love you too. But…”

”Please, let’s just try. You don’t know that you’re going to hurt me, you could be fine. I want to try, Patrick. Please.”

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning up for a quick kiss. “Promise me you won’t let me hurt you.”

“Patrick…”

”Promise me, if I try to hurt you you’ll...”

“I’m not going hurt you.”

“Joe.”

“We’re totally not in that kind of relationship,” I laughed feebly, trying to distract him from what he was asking me, what I like, already knew I would ultimately have to do if things went bad. I couldn’t think about that, though, it was like, completely impossible to consider my Patrick turning into one of the bad guys. Even with like, the teeth and everything he wasn’t a monster.

Patrick sighed, trying to pull away from me, but I caught his wrist before he went anywhere. “I won’t like, let you do anything I don’t want, I promise. Let’s just try and make this work, please?”

He didn’t answer me, but he did settle back down beside me, curling against me again, and I figured that was like, enough for the moment. It kinda had to be.

–

I woke up like, way too early the next day, when it was still light out even. Patrick was still sound asleep, the way I should have been, but I crept out of bed and tried to leave the warehouse as quietly as possible. I didn’t know if anyone had heard me, but no one followed me out or anything, so I figured I’d gotten away with it. Not that there was really anything to like, get away with; I was just going to the library for research.

I knew I had to return like, before it got dark; I was still tired from the brawl and the last thing I needed was to get into a fight on my own with like, practically no weapons. The others wouldn’t wake up before then either, so I figured I could get back before they like, got all worried about where I’d gone or anything. We didn’t usually go anywhere without telling each other.

I crept out to the library for like, weeks, getting absolutely no where. None of the books I could get hold of even mentioned a cure or anything, and I was getting desperate. Patrick was like, coping but I could see it was killing him or something, except he was already dead and that was the problem, and I just wanted to make it all okay for him again. Whenever I mentioned my research to him, he got the same weird look and told me it was pointless, that I was searching for something that like, didn’t exist; but I couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t possibly know it was true or whatever, there had to be _something_.

It was weird waking up so much earlier than everyone else, and like, getting out of bed before Patrick even woke up. I always like, gave him a kiss before I left, but he slept right through and then we spent all night training and fighting and preparing for a fight we could all feel coming. It was strange, Pete had felt it first, something was changing, the brawls were getting more frequent and it felt like they were building towards something. Something so much bigger than anything we’d like, ever seen before.

We were scared, I’m not like, ashamed to admit it, but we were preparing ourselves, and ready to fight no matter what. I wished we didn’t have to, every night we did it was like a painful reminder of that night, and what I had lost in the space of hours. And like, with Dirty gone it was harder and harder to keep track of the vampires' movements, and we were struggling to recruit someone new, someone we like, knew we could trust.

If we’d had a like, really nasty fight I tended not to go out, not because I thought any vampires would still be around or anything, but because it basically sucked to get up early after one. It was nice, even if my whole body like ached, because it meant I got to wake up and stay in bed with Patrick for a bit. I like, really missed snuggling up with him, he was always cold, but when he’d just woken up I could almost pretend he was like, completely human still, and that we weren’t even in this mess.

We ended up snuggled up really close, so he was like, resting his head on my shoulder, and kind of nuzzling my neck a bit every now and again. It was kind of nice, and I was really hoping that the other two wouldn’t like, suddenly decide they needed us or anything so we could just stay there forever.

“You smell different,” Patrick whispered sleepily into my neck, “have we changed detergents?” I shook my head, but I couldn’t like, think of any reason why I’d smell different, I’d showered when I’d gotten back, and I hadn’t changed anything recently. We stayed in silence for a while longer, and I stroked a hand across his back, just enjoying the moment. I was vaguely aware that Patrick seemed to be sniffing me, which was weird, but not unpleasant or anything. “It smells really nice,” he whispered, and I still couldn’t think why, but I wondered if maybe I didn’t like, smell different at all, and he was just trying to like, come on to me. When I reached for him though he flinched away, mumbling that he had work to do, even though he’d barely touched his research since he got turned.

I lay in bed for ages after he left, trying to work out what I’d done wrong. One second he’d been cuddled up to me, and the next he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough and like, I knew I’d reached for him, but I couldn’t see why that would have upset him. I figured I must have read him wrong and he’d freaked out, it wasn’t like he could actually do much or anything anymore and maybe like, it had just been a painful reminder for him. I could have like, totally kicked myself for ruining it and promised I’d make it up to him somehow the next time we got some time together.

I barely saw him all day, and never without Pete or Andy hanging around, and then he didn’t come to bed at all. When I got up to do my research he was curled up on the couch, without even a blanket or anything. I wasn’t really sure that it mattered to him anymore, blankets certainly didn’t warm him up, but it felt like, really weird to leave him lying there like that. I was a little worried he’d wake up and freak out again, but I couldn’t see why, we hadn’t even fought or whatever, it made no sense for him to be angry at me. I covered him over before I left, and by the time I was back he was sat at his desk, frowning over some notes, and the blanket was in a heap on the floor next to the couch. He didn’t look up when I came in, and I told myself that was because he never looked up from his research, not because he was still mad at me.

He slept on the couch for weeks, always like, refusing the bed even though I told him I’d be totally fine with the couch. Every day, when I got up, he was always covered in the blanket I’d taken from our bed the first night. I kept telling myself that it was a sign we’d be like, totally alright at the end of the day, but every single night he refused to come to bed made it hurt more and more. I was still searching for the cure and coming up empty handed or whatever and it hurt to know that he wasn’t even there to come home to anymore. But it just made me more determined, I was sure everything would be fine if I could just cure him, we could like, wipe the whole experience away, and like, carry on from before it ever happened. We could cure Pete too, go back to like, the band properly.

Just when I was like, sure we were never going to be okay, even though we had promised to try and make it work, Patrick started sitting next to me on the couch again. He wouldn’t ever cuddle close or anything, or even really touch me, and at first he was flinching whenever I tried to touch him, until I like, practically gave up. He’d only ever do it when one of the other guys were around, and from like, how Pete had behaved when he’d come back, and what I was reading I pieced together that like, he wasn’t pissed with me at all. I really wanted us to be okay, and gradually it did seem like we would be again; he started sitting much closer to me, and letting me touch him more, until one evening when we didn’t have a hunt or anything and we were all particularly tired he ended up cuddled against me, even once Pete and Andy had left the room.

I was hoping it would mean we’d like, be okay again, but I was still surprised when he followed me into our room. It felt a little like he’d been testing me, even though I knew he was like, really testing himself. I hated not being able to fully understand him, now he wasn’t telling me anything that was going on in his head, and I couldn’t tell if him coming with me meant we’d like passed, or if it was just another test.

I couldn’t stand it, we’d been dating for like, forever, we shouldn’t have needed to test each other before we could like, sleep in our bed together. I knew he was scared, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t even imagine being scared of him, but I could see how much it hurt him to be scared of himself. He was so tense when he sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, and looking at him I flashed back to that night all over again.

I’d been like, dreaming about it most nights since he came back, the way he’d looked so scared and unsure, and still my Patrick but changed, too. Some nights I dreamt it differently, mixed up my memories or something so he didn’t come back at all. Dreamt him lying there… finding him discarded once they’d drained him. I always woke up shaking and angry and ready to fight, and once or twice he’d caught me, back before he was sleeping on the couch, and asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Even though I’d always felt like I could tell him everything, I knew it would hurt him too much and I couldn’t do it. Instead I tried to like, carry on as normal, pretend like none of it was hurting me at all.

He stayed sat on the side of the bed, even once I’d like, stripped down to my boxers and climbed in, and I didn’t want to push him in case it freaked him out even more, it was obvious we hadn’t like, passed anything just yet. When I woke up the next day he wasn’t there, and like, I couldn’t say I was surprised or anything. I’d wanted him to be, I wanted him to feel like he could trust himself, to feel okay again, but I didn’t think he would just yet.

Over the next few weeks he started coming to bed with me more often, until it was most nights, and we could like, sit and chat before I went to sleep. He even stopped sitting on the edge of the bed nervously, and began to sit up against the headboard beside me. I always woke up alone though, and that kind of felt like a sucker punch to the gut or something, I hated that he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me, wouldn’t sleep in _our_ bed.

One night, just as I was beginning to fall asleep, I felt him shift beside me, but instead of creeping out of the room or anything, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I didn’t open my eyes, but I was sure he was watching me, and I wondered if maybe it felt the same way for him as the early mornings did for me. If maybe he was lying next to me, pretending this was a few months ago before he was turned. I lay awake for a long time, but I still fell asleep before he left.

It was another week of him being there when I went to sleep but never when I woke up before he seemed to pluck up the courage to carry the blanket back into the bedroom. I’d been like, folding it and draping it over the back of the couch for him in some weird little routine ever since he’d started sleeping out there, and we both knew what bringing it back meant. It felt so good to see him tucking himself in properly, rather than lying on top of the covers fully dressed, so good to be able to cuddle up beside him and know that he wouldn’t leave the second he thought I was asleep. We talked for like, forever before we went to sleep and it just felt so normal, so good and just us for once, rather than like, worrying about all the shit that was going on.

It was such a relief the next morning to wake up with Patrick still pressed close next to me, for the first time in months it felt completely normal again. I was kinda only like, half awake, but I could feel him gently stroking his fingers across my cheek, and I couldn’t help but snuggle that little bit closer to him, sleepily. I wasn’t really like, expecting anything more, just enjoying the contact, but then I felt his lips brushing against mine, and I reached clumsily up to curl a hand around his shoulder, pulling him closer to me.

I wasn’t really sure how much he wanted, but he shifted, settling on his knees over me, and I was more than happy to let him take control of the situation. He didn’t really look any different than all the other times we’d ended up like this, smiling at me, as he stroked his hand up and down my arm. I reached up for him instinctively, hands settling on his hips, and rubbed random little patterns into the small strip of skin where his t-shirt and boxers didn’t reach.

He’d lost the habit of sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, probably because of the fangs, and normally I didn’t notice it too much, but I could just like, see him from before in exactly the same position, biting his lip and blushing ever so slightly right before he like, leaned down to kiss me. I curled a hand around the base of his neck, stroking the soft hair there when he did lean down, pushing myself up slightly to kiss him back.

It was like, one of the first proper kisses we’d had since he got back, and the closest we’d been in months, and I couldn’t help but just hold him close to me and enjoy it. It was fine until like, one of his teeth caught on my lip and then I could taste copper, and I knew he would be able to as well. He seemed to freeze for a second, unsure what to do, and I could feel him sort of, licking at the blood a little, which was kind of really fucking weird, but at the same time I actually like, found I didn’t mind as much as I should have.

He leaned back, and his fangs seemed a little more prominent, like he was baring them a little or something. For a moment he was looking me straight in the eye, and he looked like, so intense, and then his gaze drifted to my neck. My skin felt prickly and I wasn’t sure what I was doing completely, but I knew I wanted to, I wanted to do it for him. He didn’t move for what felt like some kind of eternity and I realized he wasn’t going to just do it off his own back.

“Do it,” I whispered, trying to coax him into it. “Just do it.”

It seemed to snap him out of whatever he’d been thinking and he reared back off the bed, scrambling away from me, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Before I could even get a chance to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for he was out of the door, and I didn’t have a clue whether I should go after him or if it’d like, make things ten times worse.

I couldn’t just leave him out there on his own to freak out, it just wasn’t like, what friends did, so I pulled on shirt and followed him out. I figured walking around mostly naked was like, probably not going to help him at all, and I really wanted us to be able to work it out.

When I got out there he was sat on one of the couches, knees pulled up to his chest looking like a complete mess, and I wanted more than anything to go and hug him and tell him we could still be fine, we still were fine, but I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, it felt like it’d be a lie anyway. I couldn’t help but feel slightly angry, not like, at him or anything, but just at the circumstance, and how we’d almost got it perfect so many times just to have it all taken away from us. The band when Pete was turned, our relationship when he was turned, and then what little we’d managed to piece back together. It felt like my whole world was falling apart in front of me and I couldn’t like, hold it together or put it back together quickly enough.

“You promised,” he whispered, not looking up at me or anything. “You said you wouldn’t let me hurt you.”

I frowned at him, not that he could see. “I wanted it. I said I wouldn’t let you do anything I didn’t want. I _wanted_ that.”

“But you shouldn’t! It’s not right, Joe.” He whispered hysterically, and I had to physically force myself to stay still, not go over to him.

“Patrick,” I tried.

”I wanted to hurt you Joe, I _wanted to hurt you_.”

“You wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“I would have, I could have killed you, I could have done _anything_ , and you would have just let me, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t believe for a second he would have come even close to hurting me, let alone _killing_ me. That was what wasn’t right, the idea that he could do anything like that, fangs or not, he was still Patrick and Patrick wouldn’t do the things he was scared of. I knew he wouldn’t listen though; he was stuck on the argument the way he got stuck on his weight or his hair and wouldn’t listen to me no matter how many times I told him he was perfect.

The look on his face told me what he thought of my silence, but like, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to correct him. I didn’t know what I’d have done if he tried to kill me because that was never going to happen, trying to work it out would be like, completely pointless. “I’ll fix it, dude, I’ll fix this and then we can be fine again and we can like, cure Pete too and do the band and everything and forget this ever happened, I promise.”

Patrick shook his head sadly, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t give me his usual speech about how I’d never find a cure, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It didn’t seem like he’d changed his mind, just that he didn’t have any will to argue with me any more than we like, already had, basically. It just made me more determined than ever to like, make everything perfect for him.

That night he didn’t follow me into our room, so I brought him out the blanket again, even though I figured it couldn’t actually be doing him much good. He didn’t even look at me when I set it down beside him, but I didn’t push him for anything, he was upset and I was just hoping he’d be okay again once he’d calmed down.

Over the next few days I tried to talk to him whenever I could, work things out because I was sure we could. It wasn’t going to be easy, I knew that, but I _wanted_ to work for it, I wasn’t going to just give up on him just because things were hard right now. He deserved so much more than I could give him, but like, I was always going to do my best by him, and that had always been more than enough. Whenever I tried though, he always managed to like, have something he desperately needed to do, or start a conversation with Andy or Pete the second I opened my mouth so I’d have to like, wait for them to stop. It hurt to see him so withdrawn, and I felt like, insanely lonely. Even with Pete and Andy around and still talking to me, it wasn’t enough. I needed Patrick for it to feel right, and without him talking to me, or sleeping next to me, or sharing jokes it was just wrong.

I was determined to get him to talk to me, we’d already worked things out once, so we could like, definitely work this out too. Finally, I cornered him in the bathroom, following him in when he went for a shower. He was quick, especially now, but I knew him, and I’d like, seen all his moves before, so I still managed to get in a split second before he slammed the door, locking it. He didn’t even notice I’d pocketed the key until he went to open the door, and found he couldn’t. I couldn’t take the silence between us anymore, it had to stop, we were supposed to be stronger than all the shit going on.

He frowned at me, backing away to the far wall, putting as much distance between us as possible in the small space. “Joe, _get out_ ,” he hissed, folding his arms across his chest and like, I didn’t know what to do. He was clearly angry with me, but I couldn’t just _leave_ after I’d gotten him to myself.

“Can we just talk?”

”Get the fuck out. We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Please, dude, I love you, c’mon. You like, totally promised you’d try.”

He stared at me for a long time, and then his face twisted somehow, making him look absolutely nothing like my Patrick, and I didn’t know what was up, and if maybe being locked in such a small room with him was a good idea. I trusted him completely, but like, he wasn’t acting like himself and for the first time since, well ever, pretty much, I wondered if maybe he _could_ hurt me. “Well, I _tried_ , but I guess I’m just not all that interested in you anymore.”

It took ages for it to like, sink in what he’d said, and even then I just blinked at him because it just didn’t add up. But then like, when I thought about it, I wondered if maybe it did explain everything. I was always thinking of him as my Patrick, my Patrick who was always far too cold with fangs that he’d never even come close to hurting me with, but he wasn’t my Patrick, not completely. There was something else there now, and maybe that something else had taken away what he felt for me, made him feel new things instead.

“You don’t mean that,” I tried, anxious to believe it myself.

He smiled at me, in an awful way I’d never seen him do before, that made me feel uncomfortable and scramble for the key in my pocket. “Don’t I?” he asked, and I couldn’t answer it, didn’t know the answer and like, couldn’t have even if I had. Instead I just pulled the key out as quickly as possible and left him alone for his shower.

He seemed to be like, going out of his way to hurt me or exclude me and I didn’t understand why or anything. It was like he wanted me to leave or something, but even when he was at his worst I couldn’t dream of doing anything like that; I still loved him. I got up like, extra early, got like two hours sleep some nights, spent all day at the library reading anything, just to crawl back to the warehouse just in time to leave for a fight.

Andy gave me shit about it a few times, in a brotherly way, and I cut it back to only spending all day there if we didn’t have a fight planned. I trusted Andy completely, and if he said I was fucking us all over, then I needed to like, stop right away. I didn’t want to though, I just wanted to give up sleep and food and everything until I’d read every book ever written and found the one I wanted. _Somewhere_ , someone had to have written _something_ , even the tiniest little scrap of information that I could use. Patrick was smart, even though he wasn’t really talking to me, I knew if I could take him home something to base a cure on we’d be okay.

Eventually the library ran out of books, and I tried to like, persuade them to order more in for me but either it would take days or they just wouldn’t do it, and I had to think of some new way to find a cure. It took me two days before I worked up the courage to do it, but I decided to go through Patrick’s notes. I knew I could like, put them back exactly how they were and as long as he didn’t wake up he’d never know any better. He’d told me so many times about his research, and I knew he’d spent months and months meticulously detailing every single piece of information he found to try and help Pete. Maybe he’d like, seen something I hadn’t and I could like, work out what to do with it.

When I pulled out the notebook he’d devoted to finding a cure, about three fell out onto his desk all at once. One of them, a green one I recognized as something Patrick had been writing in recently, fell open, and tucked inside was a small Polaroid photograph. It wasn’t a new picture, but there was no mistaking it, it was the one of us I’d kept tucked in my wallet for years, until it had disappeared the week before. I stared at it for ages, and the page it had marked, dated yesterday, with information about how he felt, how scared he was. I snapped it shut, not wanting to read any more. It felt like an invasion of his privacy to go any further, but I looked at the Polaroid for a long time, torn between the want to put it back in my wallet and keep it forever, and the desire to make Patrick happy. He’d obviously stolen the picture for a reason, so I tucked it back where it had come from and put the notebooks back on the shelf.

The notebook on finding a cure was thick, and like, full of page after page of quotes and cuttings from books, and notes Patrick had added himself, trying to make sense of it all. I read like, the whole thing front to back twice. And then I read it again because I just couldn’t believe what I was reading, but things did make a lot more sense. Of course Patrick had felt so hopeless whenever I’d mentioned a cure, because he’d done the research and put two and two together where I’d like, completely refused to accept there wouldn’t be a cure.

The best thing Patrick had found was one quote that read “the only cure for a vampire is a beheading.” Beside it, Patrick had helpfully noted the other ways we could kill a vampire, and I stared at all of them, wondering if that was what I was going to have to do one day. He’d already changed so much since he’d come back, and every day he seemed more vicious, more inclined to fight and snip at me, and it was like he was turning into a completely different person. Maybe he was right, there was no cure and there was nothing I could do, he was going to be a vampire until he died _again_ , and I couldn’t stop that, couldn’t fix that. I sank to the floor, still holding the notebook open on the very last page Patrick had written. It was dated months before he was turned, and I knew he hadn’t done much research since then, but the fact that he’d stopped looking for a cure so long ago said it all.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until the ink on the page started to bleed into the page. It felt stupid to sit on the floor in the warehouse and cry with my boyfriend sleeping on the sofa across the room, but I’d lost so much. I couldn’t just leave him, I couldn’t let him change and push me away, I _loved him_ , there had to be something I could do, even if I couldn’t cure him. Something that would stop him from feeling so scared, make him feel like he could spend time with me again.

I thought back to that night, when we’d been so close and it had all felt okay for just a few hours, and how he’d fled. He’d been scared then, petrified of hurting me, and of himself and what he was capable of. Maybe he was still scared, maybe he was letting the monster take control of him because it was easier than letting me see what it was doing to him. I couldn’t understand what could possibly be so bad that he wouldn’t want me close. If it had been me I would want him there, I would want us to be together and I would never ever hurt him, but I would need him. I wondered if maybe he needed me too, but he didn’t know how to deal with that now he’d changed so much.

He’d been so afraid of turning me, so afraid of hurting me, but if I was like him he’d never need to be scared of that again. If I was a vampire there’d be a monster in me too, and then we could like, be together, and even though being turned petrified me I knew I couldn’t live like this.

I tucked the notebook back on the shelf as well, and headed back to my room to think. On the way I stopped at the couch, he looked so normal asleep, and I really wanted to lean down and kiss him, or tuck the blanket around him better, but I didn’t want him to wake up and freak out. I still didn’t like, understand how he was feeling or anything, but after reading the notebook I had a better idea. He was absolutely terrified, and the last thing he needed was me like, giving him more reasons to be afraid.

By the time I had worked out what I was going to do I could hear all the others in the living space, hear the sound of Andy practicing in the corner. I knew I couldn’t tell them, they wouldn’t understand why I had to do it. Andy would try to stop me, I knew that, he’d say it was stupid and that I needed to think it through, but I’d done nothing but think it through. Pete, well Pete would probably strangle me for even thinking it, but once it was done he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I was doing it for Patrick, for all of us even, because we were a better team, stronger team when we were all getting along. I knew the rift between us had to be affecting everyone, even if the other two weren’t saying anything to me.

With both Pete and Patrick out of the question, I knew I had to like, find another vampire to turn me. It wasn’t going to be easy, I didn’t like, know any other vampires really, aside from ex-friends, but I figured I could just find a random, get turned and come straight back to the warehouse. As long as I didn’t like, get one of the Dandies to do it, I’d be like totally fine. Or well, totally dead, but that was like, the plan or whatever.

I could barely concentrate that evening, but thankfully we didn’t have a hunt or anything planned, so I wasn’t putting anyone in any danger. I just wanted to burst, I was finally going to make things right between us, and even if it wasn’t the cure I’d originally hoped for it was almost as good. Patrick would be happy once we were the same again, even if what we were was different from before. He’d feel safe and we could sleep in the bed together and I wouldn’t need to pretend that it was before he got turned, because we’d be okay anyway and we’d have forever together and like, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than that. I’d wanted to spend every day until I died with him for longer than I could remember, but this was like, so much better than that, we’d have an eternity and no one could take that away from us.

I forced myself to get a proper night's sleep the next day, which is like totally fucked up, but something I was like, completely used to by this point. As soon as Pete was turned and we like, started hunting day just turned into night. I left it until not long before sunset rather than going early and waiting around. It meant I ran the risk of bumping into Andy on the way out, but I knew he would let me go as long as I didn’t tell him exactly what I was going for and promised to be back before dark. It would have hurt to lie to him, but it would have been worth it.

Andy wasn’t up when I left, and I hastily scribbled a note to leave on the worktop, letting them know I was fine and that when I came back everything would be fixed and we could be together for like, forever. I knew they’d worry when I didn’t come back right away, but there was no other way to do this. I couldn’t keep going the way we were, I hadn’t protected Patrick back in the brawl, even though he’d always had my back with my weapons, I needed to fix it, to make it right.

It didn’t take me long to find a vampire; the city was like, full of them if you knew where to look. I wasn’t exactly sure of how to like, approach one, aside from Patrick and Pete, all I knew was shoot and kill, I definitely had like, no clue how to convince the guy he wanted to turn me rather than kill me. It was three days though, before I plucked up the courage to actually do anything. I picked a lone vampire, who looked slightly less daunting than the others, he definitely wasn’t a Dandy, unless he was like, in an _amazing_ disguise, and he didn’t appear to belong to any of the other main gangs either. The last thing I wanted was to get in the middle of some big gang warfare or have a vampire coming after me. We had enough of that from Pete.

At first he was like, completely confused and I guessed that made sense because people don’t usually ask to get turned or anything. I kind of like, explained about Patrick, told him how much I wanted to go back to him and be able to be with him forever, and eventually he seemed to come around to the idea. I couldn’t believe my luck once he was finally convinced. It was finally happening, I was going to be able to go back to the warehouse and crawl into bed with Patrick as soon as it was over and I like, couldn’t wait. I felt his fangs grazing my neck, but just as he was about to bite, he was ripped away from me. Looking up in shock, I saw Travis, who was like, a really good friend back before he got turned. We didn’t really like see much of each other anymore, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t kill each other. Everyone else was fair game, but like, even in brawls or whatever, we never laid a finger on each other.

“The fuck, dude?” I gasped, as he whispered something I didn’t catch to the vampire which sent him scurrying off down some alleyway.

“Just doing you a favor,” he told me coolly, like it should have been obvious, and I guessed it like, would have been if I hadn’t wanted it.

“Since when do you owe me a favor?”

“Since… I heard about Patrick, alright man, and I feel bad. Dude didn’t deserve that.”

My heart froze, and I barely had any voice when I asked, “It wasn’t you?” I needed to like, know he wouldn’t do that to Patrick, even though I knew by our rules he shouldn’t have; Travis had known Patrick too, they’d worked together.

”No, no man, I just feel bad for him. “

He frowned at me when I asked him to turn me then, make it part of the favor, which made sense, kind of, because it’s probably not a request he gets often or whatever. But like, I needed someone to do it, and I knew Travis, I knew he wouldn’t start shit over it.

I had to like, explain how I wanted to be like Patrick, wanted to be with him forever, and this was the only way. He listened and didn’t interrupt me, although a couple of times he pulled a face, clearly a silent disagreement, but like, I had to convince him so I just kept going.

No matter what I tried, even when I like, begged him, he wouldn’t turn me, wouldn’t even let me go so I could find someone else. He kept saying I’d regret it, Pete would kick my ass, which I totally knew, but Pete would forgive me, he would understand eventually, he would see how happy Patrick was and have to.

He did actually like, smack me, not hard enough to do any damage, but to try and knock some sense into me or something. He seemed to think the vampire I’d chosen was going to like, make me part of his clan, and like, that was something I obviously didn’t want, but I couldn’t understand why that meant he couldn’t turn me himself. He could like, totally do it and then let me go home. Instead he walked me the whole way back to the warehouse; he didn’t like come in or anything, didn’t even come close, but he did stay and watch until I’d gone inside.

When I got in Patrick was the only one there, watching the door in complete silence. He jumped up when I walked in, and like, from the way his eyes were red, and his cheeks still a little damp I could see he’d been crying, and I immediately wanted to go cuddle him, but my plan had like, failed, and I didn't think that was really an option.

“Where did you go?” he asked, coming over, and I thought maybe he was going to like, hug me or something, but instead he stood back slightly, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back.”

“Didn’t you get my note?”

“We thought you’d just gone to the library or something, and then you didn’t come back,” he sighed, obviously frustrated, and it dawned on me that he’d been crying because of _me_ , I’d actually made him cry. It was worse than all the things he’d said to me, all the time apart, to know that I’d actually hurt him that badly. “I didn’t know where you’d gone, or why you hadn’t come back. I thought something had happened, Joe!”

“I wanted to make things right for you.”

“You don’t need to leave!”

“You… I thought if I left I could…” I trailed off, knowing he’d be mad at me, wouldn’t understand why I’d had to do it. “I thought if I got someone to turn me, we could be okay again.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

”I wanted to fix it for you, and this was the only way I could make it so you wouldn’t be scared any more.”

“You didn’t,” he said quietly, it wasn’t a question because he like, already knew the answer to that one. He’d have been able to smell it on me the way Pete had like, smelt him, if my plan had worked. “Pete and Andy are looking for you,” he whispered, “you need to let them know you’re back.”

I couldn’t believe they’d sent out a search party for me, but then again, I guessed I hadn’t really told them enough in my note. But I like, hadn’t expected to be gone so long either, I’d planned to just go, get turned and come back the next night.

Over the phone they seemed just like, insanely glad I was back, but I was sure once they found out what I’d been doing they’d be really fucking pissed off with me. I needed them to understand what I’d been trying to do, but I knew they wouldn’t, even Patrick had thought it stupid, and I was doing it for him. Well, for him and for us, so we could be together and have forever, and he’d never need to be scared because we’d be like, completely safe and happy and everything.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to try it again, it was too risky, I needed to find a vampire I knew who would do it. Travis had been right, the vampire I’d chosen was probably trying to build up his clan or whatever, I’d been like, completely stupid just picking a random guy. I wished Travis had done it for me, it would have like, solved all the problems, because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, we had our deal. Unless maybe turning me counted as hurting me somehow, and then like, he wouldn’t be able to do it because of that. I didn’t really think so though, it seemed kind of stupid when I actually wanted it.

The only other vampires I knew were Patrick and Pete, and like, Pete would kill me for even thinking it, which just left Patrick. I could try and convince him, now he seemed to be talking to me again, but I didn’t know if he’d go for it. He was too scared of hurting me to actually try anything, which is why I’d been looking for a random vampire in the first place. But maybe once I’d told him how perfect it would be he’d come around, maybe when he actually thought about how we’d have like, _forever_ , he’d start to like the idea.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell them,” Patrick said, breaking me out of my thoughts and looking nervously at the door. “You were just being stupid, let’s just forget the whole thing, tell them you were researching or something.”

“I wasn’t just being stupid, dude. I’m trying to fix this, you’ve got to think about it.”

”There’s nothing to think about, you were trying to get yourself _killed_.”

“So you wouldn’t need to be scared about hurting me. I love you like, _so much_ , dude; I can’t do this without you.”

Patrick looked torn for a moment, and then curled his fingers around my wrist, stroking slightly with his thumb. “What if you didn’t need to?”

“You’ve been pushing me away for months, and I totally get it dude, you’re scared, but you won’t need to be once I’ve been like, turned too.”

“No, what if we tried again? We could make it work this time, Joe. I won’t do it again, I promise. We can make this work; you don’t need to get yourself killed first.”

I sighed, and like, I wanted to believe him more than anything, so I just wrapped my arms around him and let him press a dry kiss to where my neck met my shoulder. I knew he must still have been scared, he felt too tense, too ready to fight or flee or whatever and it didn’t feel like anything had changed from the last time we had that conversation. We were still stuck trying to make something work while it like, completely fell apart. I didn’t say anything though, just let him believe we could be okay, even if I couldn’t believe it myself, and promised myself I’d try so hard to make it work. Even if we managed it, it wouldn’t be like, for forever and that just wasn’t enough. One day I was going to die and leave him behind and I couldn’t stand that thought.

Just like Patrick suggested, I told the guys I’d been researching and that I was sorry I’d like, scared them so much. I felt like, completely shitty, about it, and I knew they didn’t buy it fully, but I didn’t know what else to do. I could have told them the truth, but then like, I’d have to try and justify to them and I hadn’t even managed to justify it to Patrick yet. Plus, I knew he didn’t want me to tell them, and like, I didn’t want to upset him when I’d only just got him back again.

He stayed like, really close to me for the rest of the night, curled into my side on the sofa, and it was kind of nice, except I could tell he was terrified, and that just made me feel kind of shitty. It felt kind of like he was doing it just to make us work, and I like, totally appreciated it and all, but it still didn’t feel right. I didn’t want him to hug me because he thought that was like, the right thing to do, I just wanted him to like, want it like he always had before.

It actually wasn’t a lot better than like, when he wasn’t speaking to me. It was nice to have him close and everything, and I was really glad he was trying, but I was kind of just waiting for it to blow up in my face all over again. I kept running over arguments I could use to convince him to turn me, but even as I like, thought them, I knew he could counter pretty much all of them.

I went to bed fairly early, feeling kind of really shitty from not sleeping properly for three nights, and Patrick did actually follow me, carrying his blanket back into our room. I really, really hoped it meant he was going to stay the night, because like, maybe if he did, I thought we could wake up and be okay again and have our early morning time and stop being so weird.

Waking up the next morning was awesome, Patrick hadn’t gone anywhere during the night, and was like, fast asleep, cuddled into my side. I couldn’t help but feel hopeful for us, and looking back, maybe that was a bit of a mistake, but like, I felt like maybe we could work, _really_ make it work. He shuffled slightly in his sleep, and I like, promised myself I’d make it work for us. No matter how awkward it was going to be at first, we’d make it work anyway. We’d been through like, way too much to just give up.

Over the next few days things gradually got back to normal, or as normal as they ever were going to be, and it seems kind of stupid now, because we were just playing a game around each other, and I hadn’t even realized. He’d cuddle up to me, and kiss me and everything just like he always had, and I always managed to ignore the way he’d tense up, or hesitate before we kissed or whatever.

The only time I ever got frustrated was when we stayed in bed all morning and tried to like, make use of the time or whatever. I think Patrick was frustrated with it too, probably more than me, because like he couldn’t do anything anymore. Not now he had no blood. But like, I couldn’t do much either, and like, I think mostly we were going through the motions a lot with it. If it hadn’t been for how much we were pretending everything was normal, I think I would have just taken care of myself instead, because it wasn’t like we got to do a lot more than that anyway. After what happened when we just like, kissed, I really didn’t want to risk those teeth again.

Andy and Pete probably knew something was up with us, but like, they never said anything. I was kind of glad in a way, because we kind of needed to figure out for ourselves that we weren’t working. You can’t like, force something to work just because you want it to, no matter how much that is.

I hadn’t even noticed my birthday coming up until Pete clapped a hand on my shoulder and asked what I wanted. It was late, and Patrick had already fallen asleep, face tucked into my shoulder, he seemed to like doing that, and like, I was just glad he trusted himself enough to. I had like, no idea how much will power it was taking him to keep acting natural around me, I wasn’t even recognizing how scared he was still.

I mumbled, “Surprise me,” and Pete seemed momentarily like, pissed off by my answer, before like, cheering up again and wandering off to the basement, and I hoped that meant he’d gotten some idea or something so he wouldn’t pester me about it right up to the date. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything awesome, Pete was a good friend, but like, amazing presents were not really his thing, especially when he couldn’t go shopping or anything. I never like, minded or at all, birthdays weren’t really all that exciting when we couldn’t like, go out and enjoy ourselves or whatever.

Kissing the top of Patrick’s head, I nudged him awake gently. “C’mon dude, bedtime.”

He mumbled sleepily at me, but took my hand and let me help him up so we could like, go to bed. I wondered if he knew it was my birthday coming up, and if I should remind him, because he’d be pissy if he hadn’t had enough warning to get me a present or whatever. It wasn’t like I needed one, but I knew he’d want to give me something anyway. But like, I didn’t want to remind him, because it felt strange, thinking about how I was a year older, yet he was like, exactly the same as when he was turned. It didn’t feel weird right now, because it was only a few months, but I realized that in a few years he wouldn’t have changed still, yet I’d be completely different. It kind of freaked me out, and I didn’t end up saying anything to him in case he freaked out too, but I did lie awake and think about it for like, ages.

We didn’t bother getting up early on my birthday, I think Patrick knew the mornings were my favorite time so always tried to make sure we could spend as long in bed as possible. I was thinking about what my birthday meant again, about how I’d get old and change and not be the person Patrick fell in love with, but how he’d like, never change with me. As fine as I thought we were at the time, I wasn’t sure we’d be able to make it with all the pressure of me growing old. And then like, I had to face that one day I’d die, and that was just painful, because Patrick wouldn’t, and then he’d be left behind and I really, really didn’t want to do that to him.

I wanted forever with him, and I was really hoping he’d want the same thing. But like, the only way we could have that is if I was turned too, and as much as I’d promised myself I wouldn’t think about it, I couldn’t stop. It was the best solution I could see, but he wasn’t buying it, and I couldn’t see what would be so horrible about it if it meant we could be together.

He was only slightly awake, and nuzzling against my cheek slightly, and I felt kind of bad starting the conversation when he’d only just woken up, but it was like something we had to do in private and I didn’t want to leave it any longer to like, wait for the evening, or whatever. To be honest, I was kind of afraid I’d chicken out or something, not because I was like, scared of being turned, but because I was seriously nervous about how he was going to react to the suggestion.

“I’m getting older…” I whispered, and he made a soft noise of agreement to let me know he was listening. He didn’t have like, any idea where I was going with it. “You’re like, not though.”

“What?”

“You’re not getting older, but I am. Don’t you wonder about in ten years when you’re still you but I’m not?” I stroked down his cheek, it was still so strange to think this is what I could have forever, he’d never change and I could like, be there with him.

Patrick snorted, “You’ll still be _you_ , dude, just older.”

“But you won’t be, and that’ll be like, _seriously_ weird.”

“I think we’ve already done more than our fair share of weird.”

“I just don’t want to get old without you, I want us to have forever.”

“I’m not going to disappear the second you get old, Joe,” he laughed, poking me playfully in the stomach.

“No, but like, I _am_.”

He lifted himself up on one elbow, narrowing his eyes at me slightly, “I thought you said you weren’t going to leave any more.”

“Not leave…”

“Joe?” He sounded worried, and I couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out, but then again, maybe he was just ignoring it. There were a lot of things we ignored just to hold everything together.

“You can’t die; you’re already dead, kind of. But like, I’m going to get old and die and I don’t want to leave you behind.”

He wrapped his arms around me kissing my shoulder, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do.”

“No, you really, really don’t.”

“Why won’t you do it? What’s so bad about it if it means we can be together?”

“We are together.”

“Forever.”

He froze, looking at me for what felt like ages, and I could see I’d gotten him, even if he was still trying to remain firm. Forever sounded just as good to him as it did to me and like, I knew it wouldn’t take much to fully convince him.

“Don’t you want that?” I tried, stroking his arm. “I like, seriously want this Patrick.”

He pulled back, looking torn, “I… I’d have to _kill_ you, Joe.”

“It’s not how it sounds, though, I’d still be here.”

“You’d be dead…”

“Like you, forever. C’mon, dude, tell me you don’t want it.” He looked away, and I knew he couldn’t say it.

“I love you; I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t be, you’d be making things better.”

“I do want us to work,” he admitted, cuddling closer to me again.

I didn’t answer him, afraid of pushing him too far and scaring him off the idea again, instead I just stayed quiet and let himself think it over, persuade himself. Finally he seemed to settle on a decision, but instead he just kissed me softly, whispering, “Give me a few days, okay?” It sounded kind of like ‘I’ll do it – just give me time to get my head around it’ but I couldn’t be sure.

Whatever he meant, I nodded, letting him curl back close to me, resting his head on my chest and it was weird to think he was probably like, listening to my heartbeat. I didn’t want to pressure him to go too fast or anything, and a few more days weren’t going to hurt anyone, or anything.

“What’s it like?” I murmured, suddenly feeling quite nervous about the whole thing. I had like, no idea what it was going to be like, I’d never ever ask Pete, he’d get too pissy about it, but I’d never asked Patrick either, mostly just because I’d hated all the reminders that he wasn’t human anymore.

“What?”

“Being turned, what’s it like?”

“Joe…” he pulled back, sitting up beside me.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I assured him, “I just want to like, know.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and I knew that just meant he didn’t want to say. “It was weird, I didn’t know what was happening, except I _knew_ , and I was scared.”

“Did it hurt?”

“I… I think so. I mean, yeah. But I’ll… I’ll try to make it okay for you, but it’s kind of gonna suck.” He laughed nervously, even though it wasn’t at all funny, just a nervous habit he’d never shaken. It was kind of reassuring, in a weird way, like this was still my Patrick, and I didn’t have to be scared of anything he was going to do.

I dropped the issue; let him have his time to think it through and get his head around what he was doing. I tried not to think about it or anything, but that was really kind of difficult and like, I really just wanted him to do it already. I wasn’t so much scared or anything, because it was Patrick, but I did feel slightly nervous still and like, I just wanted it done so he couldn’t change his mind and refuse.

It took him four days, but finally, when we’d just gone into the bedroom, he brought it up again. Pete and Andy had already gone to bed, and like, I was taking my jeans off to get into bed, but he was still fully dressed, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt.

“Do you still want to?” he asked nervously, watching as I dumped my dirty clothes in the wash basket, “I don’t mind if you’ve changed your mind.”

Smiling at him, I moved over and wrapped my arms around him. “Of course I do.”

I knew I was asking a lot of him, turning me would make him a full vampire, but I was willing to do the same, and now we’d found out there wasn’t a cure being half didn’t mean anything. If there had been a cure, _anything_ to help him I wouldn’t have dreamt of asking him, would have just kept searching.

“Okay,” he whispered, wiping his hands on his jeans, another nervous habit. “I guess, like, maybe lie down? It’ll probably be easier.”

He pulled the covers back for me, leaving them at the bottom of the bed, so I could lie back against the pillows. He still hadn’t even taken his jacket off and I just felt kind of uncomfortable, when he moved back up to me, I tugged at the hem of it, “Take this off?”

He shrugged out of the jacket, throwing it on the floor beside the bed, and for once I didn’t like, move to pick it up for him, just lay there waiting. He shifted again, so he had a knee on either side of my thighs, and smiled awkwardly at me.

“You can still say no…”

“I like, really don’t want to.”

“I love you, you know that right?”

“I love you, too.”

“This is going to – you’re going to _die_ , but like, I promise you won’t be out long and I’ll be here. I won’t leave you alone.”

It struck me that I’d left him alone, he’d done this on some dirty street with a stranger and I’d left him alone, he’d probably come around and not known what was going on fully and like, been scared and god, I wished I could have been there for him.

He leaned down, first pressing a dry kiss to my neck, and then I could feel him bear his fangs a little bit, feel it as they just barely grazed over my skin. It was so weird, we’d never even come close to anything like that before, and like, my whole body felt hot and prickly all over like it had before when he’d been thinking about biting me.

He didn’t ask if I was okay again, just pulled back briefly to give me one last kiss, before ducking his head back down to my neck. It hurt, I knew it was going to hurt, and like, I could feel his teeth in me, feel him sucking out my blood and it was just like, _so fucking weird_.

Just when I thought I couldn’t live, couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, he pulled back, licking at my skin a little bit, and I was mostly too out of it to pay that much attention, but I know he like, whispered _I love you_ , and I tried so hard to say it back, but my tongue felt thick in my mouth and I just couldn’t manage it. Then he like, cut himself so I could drink from him too and I remember the copper in my mouth and how it was just like every time I’d cut my lip or whatever, just _copper_ flooding my mouth, but his arm was pressed against me, and it still registered as weird.

But not so much as actually _dying_ did. Like, so fucking weird to die and then like, be able to tell the story. He was true to his word though, and when I woke up, feeling disoriented and slightly confused, he was still there, knelt beside me, watching intently. I felt weird, which is like, totally as descriptive as is possible about the whole fucking experience, just really, really _weird_ , and I reached for his wrist, just to like, give myself some contact. I couldn’t believe he’d actually _done it_ ; we had forever, we had everything.

He tugged at me until I was lying down, cuddling close to me, “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back,” he murmured, and I noticed he was shaking slightly, his face damp like he’d been crying while I was out. “You were gone so long, I thought maybe I’d done it wrong, that I’d lost you.”

I wrapped an arm around him, hating that I’d done that to him, even if it had been worth it. “It’s okay, you didn’t, I’m okay. We’ve got forever now.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, sounding a little bit awed, “forever.”

-

-

  
 _For a while things were okay. Pete and Andy were suitably unimpressed when they woke up to discover Patrick had turned Joe. Andy had taken it how he took most things, quietly angry with them, and then relieving his frustrations through training. Pete on the other hand, was much more visibly angry, he seemed to take it as a personal insult to his suffering that Joe would choose to be like him. He’d yelled at Patrick for a long time about throwing away his chance of getting cured on turning Joe too, and then yelled at Joe for it too. Patrick had never told him, never told any of them, that there wasn’t a cure to find, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to break their spirits like that. In fact, he’d only told Joe to save him from wasting his time, getting his heart set on something there wasn’t, and it hadn’t worked anyway. Pete needed the cure, needed a mission to keep him going, and he wasn’t going to take that away from him. Even then he couldn’t bring himself to tell Pete, it was easier to let him think there was something to keep fighting for, kinder really._

 _They’d come around eventually, and the group had fallen into a weird little routine that became normal to them. They didn’t go out hunting so much, not unless they were drawn into the brawls while they were out for other reasons. The nights they didn’t have to they’d stay in the warehouse, often digging out their instruments and playing. Slowly Patrick found Pete slipping lyrics under his door just after sunset, before he’d even gotten out of bed. Joe never let him go for them straight away, insisting they still got their lie in before he temporarily lost Patrick to the music. He was always joking though, arms wrapped around Patrick, lips pressed to his shoulder. Unlike before, he never pretended they were human, never needed to, just enjoyed the mornings together in their new life. Similar to the old one, but different too, always caught up on how it was forever._

 _They never got to see daylight, or eat anything but the blend, which did really suck, even though the blend was nicer than any real food Patrick had ever managed to cook. They missed feeling warmth at times, and it could get frustrating to be unable to get past kissing, but ultimately neither of them minded if that was what made it okay again._

 _By the time spring began to come around they were well and truly settled down and content with how things had worked out. The prospect of forever was still exciting, but it had become a default, something they were confident and glad they had rather than something they desperately wanted._

 _The brawls were decreasing again, so the night s they went out to fight were rarer and rarer. Privately, Patrick and Joe wondered about a time when they wouldn’t have to hunt vampires anymore, when they could just retire and live out their forever in a quiet life, but that would be years off, once Pete had gotten his revenge, felt satisfied enough to stop. If he ever did. Sometimes it felt like they’d kill vampires forever, because no matter how high the death toll there were always new ones, always more to fight._

 _They went out weekly to get supplies for the blend and food for Andy, shopping together not long after dark. Some of the ingredients for the blend were obscure and needed Andy to go out during the day, but mostly they could get everything they needed. Walking back, they never risked holding hands, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and start trouble, but they always walked close enough that their arms bumped together every now and again._

 _It wasn’t a night they’d expected to go hunting, and they’d only been popping out for bread and some garlic, so they hadn’t carried any weapons with them. They were almost home when the attack occurred; two hunters pounced on them from out of a dark alley. They both immediately flicked into defense mode, trying to predict their moves and counter them. They’d both been vampires long enough to have the hang of their bodies, but the hunters were insanely skilled, and even though they knew a lot of hunter moves, they couldn’t keep it up for long._

 _Joe saw out of his eye the movement of the stake towards Patrick’s chest, saw that Patrick wasn’t going to be able to defend himself quickly enough, and the painful scramble to get to him, to push past the hunter currently fighting him to try and save Patrick was all he could think of. It felt like the hunter was going in slow motion, but he was too, and he still couldn’t get free in time. There was a painful split second afterwards, where they both looked at each other and realized that after months and months it was finally over. They’d fought so hard to make things work, and even though it had finally felt like they’d won the battle, they’d lost the war._

 _"No, no, no, no,” he whispered, in complete disbelief of what was in front of him. He didn’t cry, too shocked, but it was close; he could barely hold himself together, and he pushed past the hunters to Patrick. He was gasping for breath, struggling to keep breathing and Joe just desperately wanted to get to him and pull the stake out, try to save him, even though he knew it wouldn’t work. It was too late, however little he wanted to accept that. The grief on his face had caught them by surprise, they’d never seen a vampire show remorse, not even at losing a fellow vampire, so he didn’t find it difficult._

 _Next to Patrick’s body, he dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He pulled him onto his lap, cradling his body. Patrick was still coughing wetly, and Joe’s fingers itched for the stake, but he was worried it would make things worse, more painful for Patick. He felt so useless, like he had the day he’d realized there was no cure, he wanted to fix it, to make it fine for Patrick._

 _Anxious for reassurance, and to comfort Joe, Patrick tried to reach for his hand, just barely managing to brush his fingers against Joe’s wrist. But it was enough to get Joe to shift their hands together, squeezing his tightly and feeling Patrick fight to squeeze back._

 _“Why?” he choked once Patrick had finally stilled in his arms, “We were on your side!” The hunter looked at him, and ducked his head in remorse. With the enormity of what he had lost sinking in, his eyes welled up with tears. Without Patrick he had nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. There was no point in him having forever if the one person he wanted to spend it with wasn’t going to be around. He reached out a hand to stroke Patrick’s cheek, closing his eyes for him; he thought he’d seen the worst when Patrick had come back dead, but this was a million times worse than that, not least because he wouldn’t come back this time._

 _One of the hunters had backed off, clearly feeling guilty, but the other didn’t make any move towards him either, still shocked by the way he was reacting, and once he’d leaned down to gently kiss Patrick’s forehead, brushing his hair back, he stared at him. “Well, what are you waiting for?”_

 _It seemed to snap him out of their stupor, and he rushed forward, clearly expecting some kind of fight, but Joe didn’t have it in him anymore. He got him quickly, and for the split second afterwards it was blinding pain, nothing like dying had been like when he’d been turned, and then there wasn’t anything at all._

 _Pete and Andy buried them the next night, in a small clearing in woodland about an hour from the warehouse, far from any churches or consecrated land. It had been painful to carry their bodies back home, but they hadn’t wanted anyone getting any ideas and taking them, wanted to give their friends a proper burial, even if that wasn’t really suitable for vampires. Pete didn’t say anything the entire time they dug the hole, it seemed only right to bury them together. The priest was there, mumbling a prayer for their souls, and watching as they carefully lowered them into the ground, one by one._

 _He didn’t say a word when they were patting the earth down, or placing the rock in the form of a makeshift gravestone, or driving back to the warehouse. As soon as they got back he locked himself in the basement, and Andy sat down on the sofa, not even feeling up to training. Patrick’s guitar was propped up against his workbench, papers spread out on the top with notes and lyrics hastily scribbled down across them. He’d been working on the song before they’d gone to the shop, thinking he’d be back in fifteen minutes to finish it off._

 _There was a feeling that maybe they should get rid of everything, strip the warehouse bare until no reminder existed of all that they’d lost. That maybe staying in the warehouse wasn’t right either, that they should leave, find a new city, somewhere without the history, settle down, keep low and try to live ordinary lives. But it felt wrong at the same time, they’d been happy here at some points, faced too much together on the streets to just pack their bags._

 _They barely kept fighting, even when they were provoked they tried to avoid it, killing any damn vampire they came across just didn’t feel right anymore. Patrick and Joe had been like good guys in monsters bodies, and they didn’t know how many other vampires out there were like that, who they’d be killing. They always felt strangely unprotected as a duo, but never able to face the idea of finding replacements. They’d never even found anyone to seriously take Dirty’s place, just occasional help here and there. No one who wanted to stick around, or who they wanted to keep around. You couldn’t replace a friend, anyway, only fill their space. But being mid-fight, or sat in the warehouse and looking over at people who weren’t Patrick and Joe wasn’t worth thinking about._

 _They were drawn into a fight with the Dandies about three months after they’d found the bodies lying in the street, surrounded by people desperately checking if it was their loved ones, and they’d been out looking for the guys but never expected to find them like that. It was totally unexpected that not only did they manage to get the upper hand in the fight, but that when Pete threw himself at Beckett, stake in hand, he actually managed to plunge it into his chest._

 _There was a strange and immediate pain he couldn’t pin down, which actually felt a lot like dying had when he’d been turned, and then before he’d fully had a chance to consider this he passed out, slumped on the floor. Andy had rushed over, shifting him, trying to make him more comfortable in the hope that he’d wake up and it’d matter. He was just considering the possibility that he’d lost the last friend he had when Pete gasped, reaching out a hand and pulling himself up on Andy’s t-shirt._

 _“That,” Pete gasped when he finally managed to sit up, “that was fucking nasty.”_

 _“What the fuck was it?” He’d already mostly figured it out, but if Pete knew it warranted sharing._

 _“Dying, or like, undying, kind of. I guess.” Pete frowned, running his tongue across his teeth, trying to get used to the lack of fangs._

 _“So, you’re human again?”_

 _“Looks like.” He said quietly, and they both knew he was thinking of Patrick, thinking of the fight Patrick never got a chance to have, of the undeath he would never get._

 _A week after he undied, Pete began stripping the house of unnecessary things, reminders of the past year and what he’d had to become. Now he was human, they’d stopped the fight, it hadn’t felt right. Once they’d killed Beckett there wasn’t anything left to fight for, and no one seemed to care about them enough to come after them either. It still hadn’t been long enough after Patrick and Joe’s deaths that he didn’t walk past their door and expect them to be cuddled up in bed chatting away, still knocked on the door and said “hey guys, you know what I just -” and then realized they weren’t there to hear him._

 _He pulled down Patrick’s notebooks from the shelf, preparing to throw them on the bonfire along with all the other painful reminders, when he paused. He still didn’t understand why they’d done it, why Patrick had decided to turn Joe, or why Joe had wanted it. He’d spent so long trying to cure Patrick, insisting he’d fix it, so it made no sense to go fuck it up by making Patrick drink blood. He didn’t know why sometimes he couldn’t get it out of his head, he knew he should remember his friends for how they were before all this shit happened. Remember them for how they were when they were making music, when they were doing what they loved. But he still didn’t know and he begrudged that, maybe more than he should, but at the same time he felt like they were his best friends, didn’t that give him a right to understand?_

 _The green notebook was Patrick’s; he knew that, the one where he’d carefully documented his own case of vampirism. There wasn’t one for Joe, at least not one that he’d seen, and he wasn’t sure what that meant, but in any case he pushed that aside for later. Adding the blue one Patrick had picked for the cure as well, he was determined to get to the bottom of it, to work out what went on in Patrick’s head._

 _He shoved the rest of them into the bin he was using to collect the stuff for the bonfire they were going to have, and carried on through the warehouse to find all the other stuff. Once he was satisfied the warehouse was sufficiently clear of vampire-related debris, he turned his attention back to the notebooks he’d left._

 _He read them both cover to cover, and gradually things made a lot more sense. Patrick had given up on a cure, and he felt a little bubble of anger in his chest about that, because no one had ever said anything to him, but apparently Joe had discovered it too. There were a lot of entries in the few days leading up to when Joe had appeared a vampire, where Patrick had been confused and trying to figure out what to do. One thing stood out in particular, the fact that they’d have forever. It seemed to be their main arguing point, and Pete shook his head._

 _As he was about to throw the notebook in the trash as well, a Polaroid slipped out of the back, even on the floor he recognized it as something he’d seen in Joe’s wallet years ago. Picking it up, he put it back onto the bench, not sure he really wanted to be looking at it for too long then threw the notebooks into the trash with all the force he could manage, which was admittedly kind of a lot weaker than he’d gotten used to._

 _It was a few days before they actually went to the woods, taking what felt like ages to find the grave. The stone was still there, marking the site, and they both lay some flowers they’d picked next to it. They hadn’t been back since that night they’d buried them, and it felt weird to be there in the middle of the day, with the sun shining clearly down on them through the trees._

 _“I wish you’d told me, fucker,” Pete told the ground, “I wish you told me you’d given up on a cure because then I could have smacked some sense into you, kind of.”_

 _Just as they were leaving he turned around to give the grave one last look. They wouldn’t be back here often, he knew that, but he didn’t really need it to remember his friends. He’d avoided the Polaroid for a long time, before slipping it into the back of his wallet, hidden by other pictures and cards. Quietly, he raised a hand in a faint goodbye and murmured:_

 _“I hope you’ve gotten your forever.”_


	2. Chapter 2

  
__

It’s not as easy as willing it all to be right.

–

Before a hunt they always checked their weapons, and made sure to have a meal. No one wanted to get out there and find that they had a bad weapon or end up so hungry by the end of the night that they couldn’t see straight. All they wanted to do was kill as many vampires as possible and get back to the warehouse safely.

Andy and Joe were eating in relative silence, while Patrick was tucked into his work area as normal, cussing at Joe’s weapon; no matter what he tried he couldn’t get the thing to work like it should. He tended to get pretty obsessive over little things like that, stopping a weapon from jamming, or putting the finishing touches to his latest invention and quite often he’d forget to stop for food or sleep and one of the others would have to come and drag him away.

It was an unwritten rule that when Patrick got like that the others left him alone unless there was an urgent reason to bother him. Usually they only bothered him when he was about to pass out or something, because they all understood that getting the weapons right was important. Patrick generally stopped working a few hours before a hunt, but on occasion he’d try to work right up to the last second in a desperate attempt to finish something before they left.

Once Joe had finished and left his plate in the sink, he took Patrick’s dinner over to him. It tended to be easier to get Patrick to eat while he was busy if he didn’t actually have to move away from his work, that way he could carry on reading through notes and looking over things.

“I brought you some food, dude. You need to eat before we leave,” he said, gesturing slightly to the plate while Patrick tested the weapon again, grimacing when it failed to fire.

“No, what I really need to do is fix this, Joe.”

“I thought you said it was like no big deal, just a small thing.”

“It is, I suppose. I just don’t want it to jam on you tonight.”

“Well, maybe I can like, help you or something and then once it’s fixed you can eat.”

“I don’t know; I don’t even know what’s wrong with it. It should fire when I do this, but it keeps jam…” the weapon suddenly fired at the floor, narrowly missing Patrick’s feet. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, that’s just exactly what it’s supposed to do.”

“So, you fixed it?”

“Yes, no. I didn’t actually do anything before I tested it that time.”

“But it’s fixed?”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe you should eat something and then you can like test it again before we go.”

“If it jams while we’re on the hunt I’ll kill you for distracting me.”

“If it jams while we’re on the hunt, I don’t think you’ll like, get the chance to kill me,” he laughed nervously.

“Joe.”

Joe pulled him into a bear hug, “It’s all good, dude, if it jams on the hunt I’ll just have to kick their asses the old fashioned way.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt because I didn’t fix this, Joe.”

“Well, I don’t want you getting hurt because you didn’t eat, dude. C’mon, just eat it quickly and then we can double check the weapon still works and still have time for like, a cuddle before we leave.”

“Just a cuddle, huh?” Patrick said teasingly.

“Eat fast or we won’t even have time for that.”

“I don’t know, we’ve still got plenty of time, aren’t you overestimating yourself a little?”

“It’s like pretty much sunset any minute, dude. We’ve got maybe fifteen, twenty minutes at the most.”

“What? Shit Joe! Why didn’t you tell me I’d worked this late?”

“I’ve been trying to get you to eat this whole time, man.”

“I just wish you’d told me how late it’d gotten; now there’s not enough time to do everything I have to.”

“Dude, calm down, there’s still enough time for food and a weapon check, that’s all you have to do.”

“What if it’s not fixed though, Joe, what if it messes up on you again and Pete doesn’t have your back? I couldn’t,” he cut himself off abruptly, looking away from Joe.

“C’mon, just eat the dinner and then like we can worry about what happens next then. You can’t go out there without eating first.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, I’ll eat the meal.”

“Eat fast, then snuggles,” he teased, testing the weapon a few times to make sure it was still working fine. On the desktop Patrick’s phone vibrated; Joe snatched it up, frowning at the caller I.D. as he passed it over.

Across the room, Andy had been practicing again, throwing vicious kicks and punches at the punch bag and Pete had been making enough noise that they knew he was awake even though they hadn’t seen much of him. As Patrick spoke quietly to the priest, Joe moved the blend they’d prepared earlier from the fridge. Patrick was still trying to find something they could add to make it slightly easier for Pete to drink, but the attempts were few and far between. Secretly, none of them had much hope for a ‘magic’ ingredient, but trying occasionally meant none of them had to admit they’d given up hope of something else. It was the same as when Patrick would sit down with huge, ancient books and trawl through them, looking for some small indication of a cure for Pete, even though he’d already confided in Joe he thought it would take longer than a lifetime to do.

Extensive testing had proved having the blend straight from the fridge didn’t do Pete any actual harm, or affect the blend significantly, but Pete really didn’t like drinking it that way, so when there was a pre-prepared blend, Joe always tried to anticipate Pete needing it and take it out so it warmed a little. It wasn’t much, because Pete would usually make the blend when he needed to drink it, but it was just something Joe could do to help.

Patrick’s phone snapped shut, but he made no move to collect his dinner or explain why the priest had phoned him. In fact he didn’t really make any attempt to move at all, sitting very still with his phone clasped between his hands, staring at it.

“What did he want, dude? Arranging to bring some more water?”

“No, no, not that. Joe, I…” he cut himself off, looking crushed.

“Dude, what’s up?” He’d been able to hear the panic in his voice, enough to make Andy stop and look over, even though they were all completely used to Joe’s tendency to worry too much (and how it predated any real need to).

“They got Dirty,” he mumbled, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

The door to Pete’s room had slid open slowly, cutting off Joe before he could ask who had got Dirty, like he didn’t already know. He’d taken one look at the scene and laughed nervously, “Whoa, who died?”

Patrick had raised his head a little, somehow managing to be even more pale than normal, voice tense, “Don’t.”

“Oh,” his face fell; they were all too used to this, there were often losses, people who got too close and got hurt. “Who?”

“Pete,” Patrick had begun softly again.

“Who?” he demanded, more viciously than he really needed to.

Patrick sighed, “Dirty. Pete, they…” he cut himself off, unable to finish. He didn’t know many details; the priest hadn’t either, but they all had a rough idea of what must have happened anyway, of who ‘they’ were.

“Get ready, we leave in ten minutes.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Five minutes.” He stormed to the kitchen, crashing around, slamming the cupboards.

“Fine.” Patrick’s voice was tight and Joe hadn’t been sure who he was talking to.

Andy had gone back to the punch bag and Patrick had been doing his best to hold it all together; Joe had just felt numb. Dirty was, had been, their eyes and ears and a good friend who stuck by them. He’d wrapped an arm around Patrick, pulling him close. Patrick had curled into him and tucked his head into Joe’s shoulder.

Patrick’s unfinished dinner had hit the wall in the kitchen, along with the container Pete’s blend had been in. Andy hadn’t even flinched; they’d expected it. Joe had glanced over as much as he could and he couldn’t see the blend amongst the wreckage so he assumed Pete had at least had the common sense to drink it first. It wasn’t exactly unusual behavior for Pete, given everything, but it wasn’t common anymore, either. They’d run out of any kind of cup within two weeks of Pete returning, but Pete was more in control these days. Coming off a hunt without feeling like they achieved anything or a plan foiled was more likely to send Pete into a quiet angry sulk than cause him to smash up the entire warehouse the way he had when he’d first been turned.

It had been an awful few months for all of them, but they’d adjusted and they were slowly carving their own version of a ‘normal’ life out of this one. Officially the band was on the backburner, but they were still playing whenever they could, because none of them could really give up on the music. Sometimes Patrick found himself humming a new song without ever having realised he’d been writing one, and never knowing if he’d even get a chance to jot it down, let alone come back to it and fix it up. With taking careful notes on his research and trying to find a cure, or perfecting the blend and the weapons there was often not enough time at the end of the day to even spend two minutes on a song. But he tried, he always tried. Not that it mattered, because even if he had an album full of songs, he wouldn’t have the words to go with them, not since Pete got turned and started keeping his words to himself. He knew if they ever found the time to seriously sit down and write Pete would have enough lyrics to fill albums for a lifetime, put words to every single scrap of music in his head for the rest of his life, even if that was forever.

Pete was out of the door and in the car before he’d even had a chance to clean up the dinner; he took a long mournful look at it, and grabbed his weapon. Right, _he thought_ , let’s do this.

–

It was bright outside when I finally got back to the warehouse, but once I was inside it was dark and quiet, and even though I would rather have had everyone back safe already, the peace was somewhat welcoming. Pete wouldn’t return until after sunset, I could be sure of that, but I had no idea about Andy or Patrick; I hadn’t seen either of them since the brawl.

I kind of just wanted to like, collapse onto my bed and sleep for hours or something, but instead I dragged my ass over to the couch and collapsed there, just for the couple of hours until the guys got back. Then I could like kidnap Patrick away for a cuddle and then sleep for like, forever.

Patrick was pretty great for stealing cuddles from, and like not just cuddles, or whatever, if we ever get like, a break from being action heroes and stuff... But it’s like, he’s totally awesome, even if he does build weapons that jam when I’d really, really like for them to just shoot the chick about to fucking bite me or something.

We’d been together forever, practically; since we were teenagers, back before we even knew this sort of shit went down. I’d liked him for like, forever, but I swore he’d never go for someone like me, never even consider it. Besides, as far as I’d known he wasn’t even gay, but we were good friends, and that was awesome. And then he’d invited me to this record fair in the city, that he’d been excited about for weeks, couldn’t stop like, going on about it at practice and shit. I’d figured he’d have at least invited Pete as well, but it had been just the two of us the whole day. I hadn’t realized it was a date until afterwards when we stopped for pizza, and that should have been like, majorly awkward but it was just something for us to laugh about, really.

I was seriously exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep until the guys got home, couldn’t relax until I knew they were safe. Still, I couldn’t help but think how nice it was going to be to crawl into bed with Patrick once he got home and just sleep; it’s actually like, really hard to sleep in a jail cell, especially with like, freaky vampire-cops watching your every move. And you don’t know whether one of them’s gonna turn around and think like, ‘Hey, you seem like you might be a nice meal’ or something.

We’d gone out on a pretty serious brawl; they were getting more and more frequent though, more and more usual for an evening to be spent like that than for us to be able to hunt the damn things down on our own grounds. I liked it better that way, we were like… much better prepared, people tended to get hurt in the brawls.

Over in the kitchen area, Patrick’s dinner and the smashed remains of the plate and the container Pete’s blend had been in were still all over the floor, like some kind of nasty reminder of what we’d lost. I set about carefully cleaning them up, so at least the others wouldn’t have to come home to it.

Almost as soon as I’d finished and sat back down the door smashed shut, and even though it was dark in the warehouse I could see Andy walking over.

“Where’s Patrick?” Andy threw himself down onto the couch, like, practically on top of me. I’d been kind of expecting Patrick to come back with Andy, with like, excuses about getting lunch or whatever before they returned.

“He’s not back yet.”

Andy frowned. “It’s nearly sunset, he’ll be back soon.”

I trusted Andy, I mean, he's my go-to guy and he's like a brother to me – he's never let me down - but at the same time I like, kind of felt that there must be something wrong, something keeping Patrick away. He’s normally like, the first back; desperate to scribble furiously in his little notebook and keep track of everything that’s happened.

We’d been talking for hours when the door slid open again, cutting Andy off pretty much mid-sentence. This would be Patrick back, safe with Pete, bringing me back my cuddles or whatever – it had to be. But it wasn't. Pete hardly even glanced at us when he walked through, going straight for our room.

“He’s not here,” Andy called to him. We hadn’t spoken about Patrick since he came in; I wasn’t ready for some kind of in-depth analysis of why Patrick was still out there alone while we were all sat here doing nothing. I should have gone straight out like as soon as I got back; anything could have happened to him while I’ve been sat around. As soon as he got back – and I basically ignored the little part of me that corrected if – I’d totally make it up to him with like, whatever he wanted.

Pete stopped dead in his tracks, which is totally a pun I’d have normally shared with the guys, but at that point it’s just wasn’t funny. “What do you mean, 'he’s not here'?” He spun around to face Andy and me, his expression completely unreadable. Even though I’ve spent years like hanging out with him, or whatever, Patrick was always better at figuring him out. Pete and I are like close and everything – we go way back, back to before all this shit kicked off – but Patrick’s always been his best friend.

“He’s not back yet, Pete,” Andy said calmly, like there was nothing extraordinary happening, but like, I knew it was just because he’s good at holding it together. He’s like an older brother to me, or something, and it’s rare that he’ll let any of this visibly get to him.

"How can he not be back yet? He’s always back, dude.” He turned back towards our room, looking frustrated and angry, “Patrick?” he yelled, “Patrick, not funny dude, just come out or whatever. Joke’s over.”

He searched the warehouse, and there was a small part of me that wanted to believe it was some elaborate practical joke or whatever, and that Patrick was just hiding out in the basement or something. I could see the exact moment he gave up; going tense and heading straight for the door.

“I can’t just sit here,” Pete shouted, and it made me feel even sicker, even though I knew he hadn’t meant to imply ‘like you are.’ “I’ve got to find him, before –” He stopped abruptly, leaving the sentence hanging, but it was pretty obvious what he was going to say. “I’ve just got to find him,” he said, softer this time, like he was really considering the possibilities of what he might be going to find.

“Pete, he’ll come back soon enough,” Andy insisted. “He’s probably just taking his sweet time for a change.” He had a point; I probably wouldn’t have been as worried if Patrick was normally slow about getting back, it’s just he’d never like, hung around or anything, he’d always come straight back to write up his notes. Pete hovered by the door, like he was torn between going out hunting and wanting to believe Andy. “Just sit down, Pete, give him a little longer.”

Pete threw himself onto the other couch, sulking, probably because he like, didn’t get his own way, even though he could have still gone. Everyone was quiet for a little while, and I closed my eyes to try to enjoy the peace; I was exhausted, and I just wanted to sleep forever or something, but I couldn’t stop worrying about everything. With Pete back the whole thing seemed more real, like Patrick was definitely out there alone and possibly hurt. Or worse.

The door slid open again; I guessed because like Pete had won the argument or whatever, and was going out, but when I looked up he wasn’t anywhere near the door. Instead Patrick was staggering across the room, looking like he was a maybe little hurt, or just tired or whatever, but I was mostly concerned with getting to him as quickly as possible and wrapping him in a giant hug.

It was what I’d been waiting for all day, but there was something that was just like, not right. I had so many questions about where he’d been and why he’d stayed out, but none of them seemed more important than having some cuddles and maybe some more sleep, proper sleep, in like a real bed, not the shitty naps on the couch I’d had all day. I felt more relaxed than I had in hours, knowing we’d all made it back safely; slightly hurt, but safe.

Patrick was freezing; not just like been-out-all-night-worrying-you-sick cold, but cold kinda like Pete is when he’s all over you. He had seemed reluctant to hug for too long, pulling back long before I’d had the chance to share some body heat or whatever.

I figured he was just like, cold and tired and not really in the mood for anything other than sleep. I kinda felt the same; I was exhausted even though I’d done nothing all day except worry. Pete was bursting with questions; the effort it was taking him to like, keep them in was practically visible, but even he seemed to get that Patrick wasn’t in the mood to deal with it and now wasn’t the time to push him.

He gave me a worried look when Patrick left the room, but stayed quiet about whatever was bothering him, so I figured it couldn’t have been that important; Pete shared practically everything with us, even if we completely did not need to know.

Patrick was sat on the edge of the bed, in his boxers and the old shirt he usually slept in, looking almost just like my Patrick should, except he seemed nervous and kind of distracted. He kept rubbing at something on his neck; I figured maybe he’d been hurt, and like, I didn’t want it getting infected or anything if it was nasty.

So I sat down next to him, pulling his hand away so I could like just check it wasn’t anything that needed to be dealt with straight away; I hadn’t noticed anything obvious before, but he’d had his jacket on and everything and it wasn’t like I’d really been looking.

I knew what I was seeing as soon as I moved his hand, but like, I kinda didn’t want to believe it. There were two small scabs on his neck, close together where the fangs had pierced the skin; they already looked days old but I knew that was just him healing fast; they couldn’t have been more than like, a day old at the most.

Patrick mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and I kinda wanted to say ‘no, I’m sorry dude, I should have been there, should have protected you’ but it was like... I couldn’t say anything. I could see he was getting kind of choked and I wanted so badly to protect him, pulling him tightly into me and pressing my face into his neck, even though it was pretty much too late for that. He didn’t really smell like my Patrick any more, not the way he had every other time we’d ended up like this after a hard day. He smelt kinda like Pete; like death. But I still didn’t let him go.

When I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, he still looked like my Patrick. He was like, maybe a little paler or whatever, and I knew he’d have the teeth, but he didn’t look like the monster out of my dreams or anything. He was still teary, and I just wanted to change everything; go back and protect him.

“I’ll fix this; I’ll like find a cure or something dude,” I promised him; there had to be something, there had to be a way to make everything okay. Patrick had already found the blend for Pete, made it so that he no longer needed to like, drink blood or whatever; so I was pretty convinced that there would be some kind of cure.

I could tell he wasn’t convinced; I really couldn’t blame him, it sounded so impossible, but like, I couldn’t just write this off or whatever and move on. I was sure there had to be something I could do.

He started practically babbling about how it wouldn’t work and there wasn’t a cure, wasn’t anything any of us could do. I kind of... I knew he’d been looking for a cure for Pete for months, and the way he was saying it kinda made me feel like he knew for a fact there was no way to help him.

I tugged him slightly closer, rubbing softly at his back. It hurt to think that maybe there really was nothing I could do about this; maybe Patrick would be like this forever, while I had to just like, sit back and watch and know that maybe if I’d just been more careful, paid more attention to him or something, maybe I could have stopped him from like getting bitten in the first place.

We weren’t really talking anymore by the time Patrick started falling asleep. It had gotten pretty late, I guessed; we’d been talking round in circles for hours. It was probably like close to sunrise or whatever, but we didn’t have to worry; all the windows were already completely blacked out for Pete.

“You should like, get some sleep or whatever, dude,” I told him when he tried to hide another yawn against my chest. He made a quiet sleepy sound, not quite an agreement but not a protest either. I helped him shift onto the bed, pulling the covers up and stripping down to my boxers to climb in as well.

I leant over to give him a quick kiss goodnight, but he like jerked away from me, rolling onto his side to face the wall. I sat there for a while, just watching him, kinda lame but whatever; he didn’t even kind of like look any different from the back with the covers pulled up high. I’d been holding it together all day, trying not to think the worst, think he was dead, and then trying to hold him together, too. I cuddled up behind him and tried to shake the feeling that he was pushing me away.

He fell asleep long before I did; exhausted and probably weak from all he’d had to go through. I still felt kind of guilty that I hadn’t been there to protect him, but I was just so glad to like have him, even though it had come at a cost. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t come back.

Patrick was still asleep when I woke up, curled up against me the same as always. It could have been any time, really, but I could hear Pete banging around in the kitchen, or whatever; I figured it was past sunset already.

I didn’t really want to wake him by moving; he was so tired when he got back... So I sort of used the time to kind of think things over or whatever. I knew things would be a little different for us now, what with Patrick having been turned, but I was sure we could make it work out somehow; because, fuck - we'd been working around Pete long enough...

By the time Patrick woke up I’d like, worked out what I was going to do and thrown away any lie-ins I could possibly have for like, the next year, basically. I was hoping it wouldn’t take too long to find a cure, if I managed to look in all the right places, but I was willing to look for as long as it took to find one, if it meant fixing this.

I was kind of just thinking about where I could start looking when Patrick started clenching his fist against my chest. He wasn’t really moving much, like he was only just starting to wake up or something. He kept shuffling slightly, like he was trying to get closer, even though I already had him like, pulled as close as possible. If it wasn’t for the icy skin it’d be hard to think that this Patrick, the one who shuffled closer like always and made the same soft sleepy noises in the back of his throat when I rubbed his arm, was any different to the Patrick who’d been here a few nights ago. It didn’t matter if he was now though, he was still Patrick.

“Morning,” I murmured, kissing him tenderly as he started to wake up properly. He didn’t like, flinch away like he had the night before and I felt a little more relaxed or something, like I at least knew he wasn’t pushing me away.

Patrick lifted his head slightly, giving me a small kiss back. Any other morning we might have like, taken advantage of being able to stay in bed or whatever. But like, neither of us were really in the mood for anything more than a lazy lie-in.

We both knew that we couldn’t stay in bed all day, kind of, and as soon as we got up I was pretty sure Pete was gonna pounce on Patrick or something. He’d kept pretty quiet when Patrick had come back; let him sleep... but like, there was only so long Pete could stay quiet for. I couldn’t blame him though; there were questions I wanted answered too.

Pete was hunched over his notebook or something, in the corner; it’s pretty typical to find him like that, writing stuff, lyrics or whatever, for the rare chance we ever have to write more songs. It shouldn’t have been bothered me. Except his best friend, our best friend, had just come home dead, and that was a pretty big deal for all of us.

Andy was like the other side of the room, pounding stake after stake into the wall targets. They noticed us as soon as we came in. Pete could probably smell us and it had gotten pretty much impossible to creep up on Andy, but they didn’t like make much of a big deal about it. Pete glanced up from his lap briefly, but then went back to whatever he was writing. I didn’t see Andy look over, but he was probably watching out of his peripheral vision or whatever; he was getting like, scarily good at that, too. Not that I could complain if it like, meant we all came back at the end of the day.

Patrick curled up beside me on the sofa, kinda like he was craving the contact or something. He seemed kind of out of it, a little, just absently snuggling into me; making himself comfortable. Pete came back still Pete; though he was angrier and more prone to bad moods he was still Pete. I didn’t want to think about the chance that maybe Patrick would change into some monster or something. Vampire or not, right now he was still Patrick, even if he was distracted, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Pete waited patiently, far more than I’d ever seen him before, but eventually he cracked. I guessed he was like, remembering what it had been like for him the first few days, how disoriented he’d been and trying to make that easier for Patrick. But at the same time we’d all known there was things we needed to find out; even Patrick would have been aware of that. None of us were annoyed, although Patrick seemed to tense up against me as the questioning started, like he didn’t really want to deal with it. I remembered his rambling from the night before, and I knew he blamed himself – thought it was like, his own stupidity or incompetency that got him in the situation even though no one else was thinking that. He’d been mumbling about leaving, but I’d put a stop to that straight away; we’d coped fine with Pete and we’d cope fine with him.

“Who?” he asked, throwing his notebook aside and pulling his knees up to his chest. It sounded kind of like the words hurt him to say, and I honestly couldn’t like, blame him. I wasn’t ready to deal with this, wasn’t ever going to be ready to deal with this.

“I don’t know Pete, I…” he trailed off. “They trapped me; I thought they were being attacked.”

“And then they attacked you?” he demanded. Patrick just nodded.

Suddenly the things he was saying the night before made like, a lot more sense, he hadn’t explained what had happened, and I’d just assumed he’d been unable to fight them off any longer and they’d bitten him. I had like, no idea he’d been tricked, but once I did I felt even more protective of him, and understood his guilt a lot more. Not that he, like, had any reason to feel guilty or anything, we’d all fallen into traps at some point, Patrick was just the unlucky one who hadn’t gotten out in time.

Pete stood up, fists clenched at his sides, and like, looking at the door like he was seriously contemplating going and ripping their heads off right then. Andy shook his head though, and I had to agree with him, I wanted to like, kill them with my bare hands, wanted to do worse than that. But it wasn’t the time, we needed to stay put, make ourselves strong again before we went picking fights or whatever.

For a second it looked like Pete was going to disappear anyway, just walk straight out the door and leave us. He’d like, done it before, left us for days without a clue where he’d gone or if he was coming back, but that was before, back when he had only just been turned, back when we weren’t always sure what we were doing. It didn’t feel like we were much better off now, or anything, but we stuck together, and I knew that made us stronger.

“We end this tomorrow,” Pete snarled, stalking off to the basement, and we all knew what he meant, but there wasn’t anything to end. Not anything we could end tomorrow. I wasn’t going to give up hope on finding a cure, but… it wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to come quickly. The best we had was like, trying to track down the monsters who did it and kill them, but we’d been like, trying to do that for Pete for months and gotten no where.

Andy returned to his stakes, and I like, tightened my arm around Patrick. He was shaking slightly, face tucked into my shoulder, and I could feel my t-shirt getting slightly damp or something, but I wasn’t going to call him out on it. I knew he hated it when we knew he was crying.

“It’ll be fine, dude,” I reassured him, kissing the top of his head through his hat, and he shook his head.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispered.

“Hey, we’re still here, you’ve still got me.”

“I’m a…” he choked off, refusing to look at me. “I’m – look at me, Joe. You can’t seriously say this changes nothing.”

I knew he was right, it was going to change things, but I couldn’t help but be like, insanely grateful he’d come back at all. “Pete’s fine, why can’t you be fine?”

“I’m not Pete.”

“No, you’re you, and I totally love you dude, don’t ask me to throw that away.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Pete’s never bitten me, so why should you?”

“How can you be okay with this?”

“I love you, I seriously, seriously love you, and you’re still Patrick. That hasn’t changed.”

“I love you too. But…”

”Please, let’s just try. You don’t know that you’re going to hurt me, you could be fine. I want to try, Patrick. Please.”

“Okay,” he whispered, leaning up for a quick kiss. “Promise me you won’t let me hurt you.”

“Patrick…”

”Promise me, if I try to hurt you you’ll...”

“I’m not going hurt you.”

“Joe.”

“We’re totally not in that kind of relationship,” I laughed feebly, trying to distract him from what he was asking me, what I like, already knew I would ultimately have to do if things went bad. I couldn’t think about that, though, it was like, completely impossible to consider my Patrick turning into one of the bad guys. Even with like, the teeth and everything he wasn’t a monster.

Patrick sighed, trying to pull away from me, but I caught his wrist before he went anywhere. “I won’t like, let you do anything I don’t want, I promise. Let’s just try and make this work, please?”

He didn’t answer me, but he did settle back down beside me, curling against me again, and I figured that was like, enough for the moment. It kinda had to be.

–

I woke up like, way too early the next day, when it was still light out even. Patrick was still sound asleep, the way I should have been, but I crept out of bed and tried to leave the warehouse as quietly as possible. I didn’t know if anyone had heard me, but no one followed me out or anything, so I figured I’d gotten away with it. Not that there was really anything to like, get away with; I was just going to the library for research.

I knew I had to return like, before it got dark; I was still tired from the brawl and the last thing I needed was to get into a fight on my own with like, practically no weapons. The others wouldn’t wake up before then either, so I figured I could get back before they like, got all worried about where I’d gone or anything. We didn’t usually go anywhere without telling each other.

I crept out to the library for like, weeks, getting absolutely no where. None of the books I could get hold of even mentioned a cure or anything, and I was getting desperate. Patrick was like, coping but I could see it was killing him or something, except he was already dead and that was the problem, and I just wanted to make it all okay for him again. Whenever I mentioned my research to him, he got the same weird look and told me it was pointless, that I was searching for something that like, didn’t exist; but I couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t possibly know it was true or whatever, there had to be _something_.

It was weird waking up so much earlier than everyone else, and like, getting out of bed before Patrick even woke up. I always like, gave him a kiss before I left, but he slept right through and then we spent all night training and fighting and preparing for a fight we could all feel coming. It was strange, Pete had felt it first, something was changing, the brawls were getting more frequent and it felt like they were building towards something. Something so much bigger than anything we’d like, ever seen before.

We were scared, I’m not like, ashamed to admit it, but we were preparing ourselves, and ready to fight no matter what. I wished we didn’t have to, every night we did it was like a painful reminder of that night, and what I had lost in the space of hours. And like, with Dirty gone it was harder and harder to keep track of the vampires' movements, and we were struggling to recruit someone new, someone we like, knew we could trust.

If we’d had a like, really nasty fight I tended not to go out, not because I thought any vampires would still be around or anything, but because it basically sucked to get up early after one. It was nice, even if my whole body like ached, because it meant I got to wake up and stay in bed with Patrick for a bit. I like, really missed snuggling up with him, he was always cold, but when he’d just woken up I could almost pretend he was like, completely human still, and that we weren’t even in this mess.

We ended up snuggled up really close, so he was like, resting his head on my shoulder, and kind of nuzzling my neck a bit every now and again. It was kind of nice, and I was really hoping that the other two wouldn’t like, suddenly decide they needed us or anything so we could just stay there forever.

“You smell different,” Patrick whispered sleepily into my neck, “have we changed detergents?” I shook my head, but I couldn’t like, think of any reason why I’d smell different, I’d showered when I’d gotten back, and I hadn’t changed anything recently. We stayed in silence for a while longer, and I stroked a hand across his back, just enjoying the moment. I was vaguely aware that Patrick seemed to be sniffing me, which was weird, but not unpleasant or anything. “It smells really nice,” he whispered, and I still couldn’t think why, but I wondered if maybe I didn’t like, smell different at all, and he was just trying to like, come on to me. When I reached for him though he flinched away, mumbling that he had work to do, even though he’d barely touched his research since he got turned.

I lay in bed for ages after he left, trying to work out what I’d done wrong. One second he’d been cuddled up to me, and the next he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough and like, I knew I’d reached for him, but I couldn’t see why that would have upset him. I figured I must have read him wrong and he’d freaked out, it wasn’t like he could actually do much or anything anymore and maybe like, it had just been a painful reminder for him. I could have like, totally kicked myself for ruining it and promised I’d make it up to him somehow the next time we got some time together.

I barely saw him all day, and never without Pete or Andy hanging around, and then he didn’t come to bed at all. When I got up to do my research he was curled up on the couch, without even a blanket or anything. I wasn’t really sure that it mattered to him anymore, blankets certainly didn’t warm him up, but it felt like, really weird to leave him lying there like that. I was a little worried he’d wake up and freak out again, but I couldn’t see why, we hadn’t even fought or whatever, it made no sense for him to be angry at me. I covered him over before I left, and by the time I was back he was sat at his desk, frowning over some notes, and the blanket was in a heap on the floor next to the couch. He didn’t look up when I came in, and I told myself that was because he never looked up from his research, not because he was still mad at me.

He slept on the couch for weeks, always like, refusing the bed even though I told him I’d be totally fine with the couch. Every day, when I got up, he was always covered in the blanket I’d taken from our bed the first night. I kept telling myself that it was a sign we’d be like, totally alright at the end of the day, but every single night he refused to come to bed made it hurt more and more. I was still searching for the cure and coming up empty handed or whatever and it hurt to know that he wasn’t even there to come home to anymore. But it just made me more determined, I was sure everything would be fine if I could just cure him, we could like, wipe the whole experience away, and like, carry on from before it ever happened. We could cure Pete too, go back to like, the band properly.

Just when I was like, sure we were never going to be okay, even though we had promised to try and make it work, Patrick started sitting next to me on the couch again. He wouldn’t ever cuddle close or anything, or even really touch me, and at first he was flinching whenever I tried to touch him, until I like, practically gave up. He’d only ever do it when one of the other guys were around, and from like, how Pete had behaved when he’d come back, and what I was reading I pieced together that like, he wasn’t pissed with me at all. I really wanted us to be okay, and gradually it did seem like we would be again; he started sitting much closer to me, and letting me touch him more, until one evening when we didn’t have a hunt or anything and we were all particularly tired he ended up cuddled against me, even once Pete and Andy had left the room.

I was hoping it would mean we’d like, be okay again, but I was still surprised when he followed me into our room. It felt a little like he’d been testing me, even though I knew he was like, really testing himself. I hated not being able to fully understand him, now he wasn’t telling me anything that was going on in his head, and I couldn’t tell if him coming with me meant we’d like passed, or if it was just another test.

I couldn’t stand it, we’d been dating for like, forever, we shouldn’t have needed to test each other before we could like, sleep in our bed together. I knew he was scared, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t even imagine being scared of him, but I could see how much it hurt him to be scared of himself. He was so tense when he sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed, and looking at him I flashed back to that night all over again.

I’d been like, dreaming about it most nights since he came back, the way he’d looked so scared and unsure, and still my Patrick but changed, too. Some nights I dreamt it differently, mixed up my memories or something so he didn’t come back at all. Dreamt him lying there… finding him discarded once they’d drained him. I always woke up shaking and angry and ready to fight, and once or twice he’d caught me, back before he was sleeping on the couch, and asked me what was wrong, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Even though I’d always felt like I could tell him everything, I knew it would hurt him too much and I couldn’t do it. Instead I tried to like, carry on as normal, pretend like none of it was hurting me at all.

He stayed sat on the side of the bed, even once I’d like, stripped down to my boxers and climbed in, and I didn’t want to push him in case it freaked him out even more, it was obvious we hadn’t like, passed anything just yet. When I woke up the next day he wasn’t there, and like, I couldn’t say I was surprised or anything. I’d wanted him to be, I wanted him to feel like he could trust himself, to feel okay again, but I didn’t think he would just yet.

Over the next few weeks he started coming to bed with me more often, until it was most nights, and we could like, sit and chat before I went to sleep. He even stopped sitting on the edge of the bed nervously, and began to sit up against the headboard beside me. I always woke up alone though, and that kind of felt like a sucker punch to the gut or something, I hated that he wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me, wouldn’t sleep in _our_ bed.

One night, just as I was beginning to fall asleep, I felt him shift beside me, but instead of creeping out of the room or anything, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I didn’t open my eyes, but I was sure he was watching me, and I wondered if maybe it felt the same way for him as the early mornings did for me. If maybe he was lying next to me, pretending this was a few months ago before he was turned. I lay awake for a long time, but I still fell asleep before he left.

It was another week of him being there when I went to sleep but never when I woke up before he seemed to pluck up the courage to carry the blanket back into the bedroom. I’d been like, folding it and draping it over the back of the couch for him in some weird little routine ever since he’d started sleeping out there, and we both knew what bringing it back meant. It felt so good to see him tucking himself in properly, rather than lying on top of the covers fully dressed, so good to be able to cuddle up beside him and know that he wouldn’t leave the second he thought I was asleep. We talked for like, forever before we went to sleep and it just felt so normal, so good and just us for once, rather than like, worrying about all the shit that was going on.

It was such a relief the next morning to wake up with Patrick still pressed close next to me, for the first time in months it felt completely normal again. I was kinda only like, half awake, but I could feel him gently stroking his fingers across my cheek, and I couldn’t help but snuggle that little bit closer to him, sleepily. I wasn’t really like, expecting anything more, just enjoying the contact, but then I felt his lips brushing against mine, and I reached clumsily up to curl a hand around his shoulder, pulling him closer to me.

I wasn’t really sure how much he wanted, but he shifted, settling on his knees over me, and I was more than happy to let him take control of the situation. He didn’t really look any different than all the other times we’d ended up like this, smiling at me, as he stroked his hand up and down my arm. I reached up for him instinctively, hands settling on his hips, and rubbed random little patterns into the small strip of skin where his t-shirt and boxers didn’t reach.

He’d lost the habit of sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, probably because of the fangs, and normally I didn’t notice it too much, but I could just like, see him from before in exactly the same position, biting his lip and blushing ever so slightly right before he like, leaned down to kiss me. I curled a hand around the base of his neck, stroking the soft hair there when he did lean down, pushing myself up slightly to kiss him back.

It was like, one of the first proper kisses we’d had since he got back, and the closest we’d been in months, and I couldn’t help but just hold him close to me and enjoy it. It was fine until like, one of his teeth caught on my lip and then I could taste copper, and I knew he would be able to as well. He seemed to freeze for a second, unsure what to do, and I could feel him sort of, licking at the blood a little, which was kind of really fucking weird, but at the same time I actually like, found I didn’t mind as much as I should have.

He leaned back, and his fangs seemed a little more prominent, like he was baring them a little or something. For a moment he was looking me straight in the eye, and he looked like, so intense, and then his gaze drifted to my neck. My skin felt prickly and I wasn’t sure what I was doing completely, but I knew I wanted to, I wanted to do it for him. He didn’t move for what felt like some kind of eternity and I realized he wasn’t going to just do it off his own back.

“Do it,” I whispered, trying to coax him into it. “Just do it.”

It seemed to snap him out of whatever he’d been thinking and he reared back off the bed, scrambling away from me, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Before I could even get a chance to tell him he had nothing to be sorry for he was out of the door, and I didn’t have a clue whether I should go after him or if it’d like, make things ten times worse.

I couldn’t just leave him out there on his own to freak out, it just wasn’t like, what friends did, so I pulled on shirt and followed him out. I figured walking around mostly naked was like, probably not going to help him at all, and I really wanted us to be able to work it out.

When I got out there he was sat on one of the couches, knees pulled up to his chest looking like a complete mess, and I wanted more than anything to go and hug him and tell him we could still be fine, we still were fine, but I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, and even though I didn’t want to admit it, it felt like it’d be a lie anyway. I couldn’t help but feel slightly angry, not like, at him or anything, but just at the circumstance, and how we’d almost got it perfect so many times just to have it all taken away from us. The band when Pete was turned, our relationship when he was turned, and then what little we’d managed to piece back together. It felt like my whole world was falling apart in front of me and I couldn’t like, hold it together or put it back together quickly enough.

“You promised,” he whispered, not looking up at me or anything. “You said you wouldn’t let me hurt you.”

I frowned at him, not that he could see. “I wanted it. I said I wouldn’t let you do anything I didn’t want. I _wanted_ that.”

“But you shouldn’t! It’s not right, Joe.” He whispered hysterically, and I had to physically force myself to stay still, not go over to him.

“Patrick,” I tried.

”I wanted to hurt you Joe, I _wanted to hurt you_.”

“You wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“I would have, I could have killed you, I could have done _anything_ , and you would have just let me, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t believe for a second he would have come even close to hurting me, let alone _killing_ me. That was what wasn’t right, the idea that he could do anything like that, fangs or not, he was still Patrick and Patrick wouldn’t do the things he was scared of. I knew he wouldn’t listen though; he was stuck on the argument the way he got stuck on his weight or his hair and wouldn’t listen to me no matter how many times I told him he was perfect.

The look on his face told me what he thought of my silence, but like, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to correct him. I didn’t know what I’d have done if he tried to kill me because that was never going to happen, trying to work it out would be like, completely pointless. “I’ll fix it, dude, I’ll fix this and then we can be fine again and we can like, cure Pete too and do the band and everything and forget this ever happened, I promise.”

Patrick shook his head sadly, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t give me his usual speech about how I’d never find a cure, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It didn’t seem like he’d changed his mind, just that he didn’t have any will to argue with me any more than we like, already had, basically. It just made me more determined than ever to like, make everything perfect for him.

That night he didn’t follow me into our room, so I brought him out the blanket again, even though I figured it couldn’t actually be doing him much good. He didn’t even look at me when I set it down beside him, but I didn’t push him for anything, he was upset and I was just hoping he’d be okay again once he’d calmed down.

Over the next few days I tried to talk to him whenever I could, work things out because I was sure we could. It wasn’t going to be easy, I knew that, but I _wanted_ to work for it, I wasn’t going to just give up on him just because things were hard right now. He deserved so much more than I could give him, but like, I was always going to do my best by him, and that had always been more than enough. Whenever I tried though, he always managed to like, have something he desperately needed to do, or start a conversation with Andy or Pete the second I opened my mouth so I’d have to like, wait for them to stop. It hurt to see him so withdrawn, and I felt like, insanely lonely. Even with Pete and Andy around and still talking to me, it wasn’t enough. I needed Patrick for it to feel right, and without him talking to me, or sleeping next to me, or sharing jokes it was just wrong.

I was determined to get him to talk to me, we’d already worked things out once, so we could like, definitely work this out too. Finally, I cornered him in the bathroom, following him in when he went for a shower. He was quick, especially now, but I knew him, and I’d like, seen all his moves before, so I still managed to get in a split second before he slammed the door, locking it. He didn’t even notice I’d pocketed the key until he went to open the door, and found he couldn’t. I couldn’t take the silence between us anymore, it had to stop, we were supposed to be stronger than all the shit going on.

He frowned at me, backing away to the far wall, putting as much distance between us as possible in the small space. “Joe, _get out_ ,” he hissed, folding his arms across his chest and like, I didn’t know what to do. He was clearly angry with me, but I couldn’t just _leave_ after I’d gotten him to myself.

“Can we just talk?”

”Get the fuck out. We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“Please, dude, I love you, c’mon. You like, totally promised you’d try.”

He stared at me for a long time, and then his face twisted somehow, making him look absolutely nothing like my Patrick, and I didn’t know what was up, and if maybe being locked in such a small room with him was a good idea. I trusted him completely, but like, he wasn’t acting like himself and for the first time since, well ever, pretty much, I wondered if maybe he _could_ hurt me. “Well, I _tried_ , but I guess I’m just not all that interested in you anymore.”

It took ages for it to like, sink in what he’d said, and even then I just blinked at him because it just didn’t add up. But then like, when I thought about it, I wondered if maybe it did explain everything. I was always thinking of him as my Patrick, my Patrick who was always far too cold with fangs that he’d never even come close to hurting me with, but he wasn’t my Patrick, not completely. There was something else there now, and maybe that something else had taken away what he felt for me, made him feel new things instead.

“You don’t mean that,” I tried, anxious to believe it myself.

He smiled at me, in an awful way I’d never seen him do before, that made me feel uncomfortable and scramble for the key in my pocket. “Don’t I?” he asked, and I couldn’t answer it, didn’t know the answer and like, couldn’t have even if I had. Instead I just pulled the key out as quickly as possible and left him alone for his shower.

He seemed to be like, going out of his way to hurt me or exclude me and I didn’t understand why or anything. It was like he wanted me to leave or something, but even when he was at his worst I couldn’t dream of doing anything like that; I still loved him. I got up like, extra early, got like two hours sleep some nights, spent all day at the library reading anything, just to crawl back to the warehouse just in time to leave for a fight.

Andy gave me shit about it a few times, in a brotherly way, and I cut it back to only spending all day there if we didn’t have a fight planned. I trusted Andy completely, and if he said I was fucking us all over, then I needed to like, stop right away. I didn’t want to though, I just wanted to give up sleep and food and everything until I’d read every book ever written and found the one I wanted. _Somewhere_ , someone had to have written _something_ , even the tiniest little scrap of information that I could use. Patrick was smart, even though he wasn’t really talking to me, I knew if I could take him home something to base a cure on we’d be okay.

Eventually the library ran out of books, and I tried to like, persuade them to order more in for me but either it would take days or they just wouldn’t do it, and I had to think of some new way to find a cure. It took me two days before I worked up the courage to do it, but I decided to go through Patrick’s notes. I knew I could like, put them back exactly how they were and as long as he didn’t wake up he’d never know any better. He’d told me so many times about his research, and I knew he’d spent months and months meticulously detailing every single piece of information he found to try and help Pete. Maybe he’d like, seen something I hadn’t and I could like, work out what to do with it.

When I pulled out the notebook he’d devoted to finding a cure, about three fell out onto his desk all at once. One of them, a green one I recognized as something Patrick had been writing in recently, fell open, and tucked inside was a small Polaroid photograph. It wasn’t a new picture, but there was no mistaking it, it was the one of us I’d kept tucked in my wallet for years, until it had disappeared the week before. I stared at it for ages, and the page it had marked, dated yesterday, with information about how he felt, how scared he was. I snapped it shut, not wanting to read any more. It felt like an invasion of his privacy to go any further, but I looked at the Polaroid for a long time, torn between the want to put it back in my wallet and keep it forever, and the desire to make Patrick happy. He’d obviously stolen the picture for a reason, so I tucked it back where it had come from and put the notebooks back on the shelf.

The notebook on finding a cure was thick, and like, full of page after page of quotes and cuttings from books, and notes Patrick had added himself, trying to make sense of it all. I read like, the whole thing front to back twice. And then I read it again because I just couldn’t believe what I was reading, but things did make a lot more sense. Of course Patrick had felt so hopeless whenever I’d mentioned a cure, because he’d done the research and put two and two together where I’d like, completely refused to accept there wouldn’t be a cure.

The best thing Patrick had found was one quote that read “the only cure for a vampire is a beheading.” Beside it, Patrick had helpfully noted the other ways we could kill a vampire, and I stared at all of them, wondering if that was what I was going to have to do one day. He’d already changed so much since he’d come back, and every day he seemed more vicious, more inclined to fight and snip at me, and it was like he was turning into a completely different person. Maybe he was right, there was no cure and there was nothing I could do, he was going to be a vampire until he died _again_ , and I couldn’t stop that, couldn’t fix that. I sank to the floor, still holding the notebook open on the very last page Patrick had written. It was dated months before he was turned, and I knew he hadn’t done much research since then, but the fact that he’d stopped looking for a cure so long ago said it all.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until the ink on the page started to bleed into the page. It felt stupid to sit on the floor in the warehouse and cry with my boyfriend sleeping on the sofa across the room, but I’d lost so much. I couldn’t just leave him, I couldn’t let him change and push me away, I _loved him_ , there had to be something I could do, even if I couldn’t cure him. Something that would stop him from feeling so scared, make him feel like he could spend time with me again.

I thought back to that night, when we’d been so close and it had all felt okay for just a few hours, and how he’d fled. He’d been scared then, petrified of hurting me, and of himself and what he was capable of. Maybe he was still scared, maybe he was letting the monster take control of him because it was easier than letting me see what it was doing to him. I couldn’t understand what could possibly be so bad that he wouldn’t want me close. If it had been me I would want him there, I would want us to be together and I would never ever hurt him, but I would need him. I wondered if maybe he needed me too, but he didn’t know how to deal with that now he’d changed so much.

He’d been so afraid of turning me, so afraid of hurting me, but if I was like him he’d never need to be scared of that again. If I was a vampire there’d be a monster in me too, and then we could like, be together, and even though being turned petrified me I knew I couldn’t live like this.

I tucked the notebook back on the shelf as well, and headed back to my room to think. On the way I stopped at the couch, he looked so normal asleep, and I really wanted to lean down and kiss him, or tuck the blanket around him better, but I didn’t want him to wake up and freak out. I still didn’t like, understand how he was feeling or anything, but after reading the notebook I had a better idea. He was absolutely terrified, and the last thing he needed was me like, giving him more reasons to be afraid.

By the time I had worked out what I was going to do I could hear all the others in the living space, hear the sound of Andy practicing in the corner. I knew I couldn’t tell them, they wouldn’t understand why I had to do it. Andy would try to stop me, I knew that, he’d say it was stupid and that I needed to think it through, but I’d done nothing but think it through. Pete, well Pete would probably strangle me for even thinking it, but once it was done he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. I was doing it for Patrick, for all of us even, because we were a better team, stronger team when we were all getting along. I knew the rift between us had to be affecting everyone, even if the other two weren’t saying anything to me.

With both Pete and Patrick out of the question, I knew I had to like, find another vampire to turn me. It wasn’t going to be easy, I didn’t like, know any other vampires really, aside from ex-friends, but I figured I could just find a random, get turned and come straight back to the warehouse. As long as I didn’t like, get one of the Dandies to do it, I’d be like totally fine. Or well, totally dead, but that was like, the plan or whatever.

I could barely concentrate that evening, but thankfully we didn’t have a hunt or anything planned, so I wasn’t putting anyone in any danger. I just wanted to burst, I was finally going to make things right between us, and even if it wasn’t the cure I’d originally hoped for it was almost as good. Patrick would be happy once we were the same again, even if what we were was different from before. He’d feel safe and we could sleep in the bed together and I wouldn’t need to pretend that it was before he got turned, because we’d be okay anyway and we’d have forever together and like, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than that. I’d wanted to spend every day until I died with him for longer than I could remember, but this was like, so much better than that, we’d have an eternity and no one could take that away from us.

I forced myself to get a proper night's sleep the next day, which is like totally fucked up, but something I was like, completely used to by this point. As soon as Pete was turned and we like, started hunting day just turned into night. I left it until not long before sunset rather than going early and waiting around. It meant I ran the risk of bumping into Andy on the way out, but I knew he would let me go as long as I didn’t tell him exactly what I was going for and promised to be back before dark. It would have hurt to lie to him, but it would have been worth it.

Andy wasn’t up when I left, and I hastily scribbled a note to leave on the worktop, letting them know I was fine and that when I came back everything would be fixed and we could be together for like, forever. I knew they’d worry when I didn’t come back right away, but there was no other way to do this. I couldn’t keep going the way we were, I hadn’t protected Patrick back in the brawl, even though he’d always had my back with my weapons, I needed to fix it, to make it right.

It didn’t take me long to find a vampire; the city was like, full of them if you knew where to look. I wasn’t exactly sure of how to like, approach one, aside from Patrick and Pete, all I knew was shoot and kill, I definitely had like, no clue how to convince the guy he wanted to turn me rather than kill me. It was three days though, before I plucked up the courage to actually do anything. I picked a lone vampire, who looked slightly less daunting than the others, he definitely wasn’t a Dandy, unless he was like, in an _amazing_ disguise, and he didn’t appear to belong to any of the other main gangs either. The last thing I wanted was to get in the middle of some big gang warfare or have a vampire coming after me. We had enough of that from Pete.

At first he was like, completely confused and I guessed that made sense because people don’t usually ask to get turned or anything. I kind of like, explained about Patrick, told him how much I wanted to go back to him and be able to be with him forever, and eventually he seemed to come around to the idea. I couldn’t believe my luck once he was finally convinced. It was finally happening, I was going to be able to go back to the warehouse and crawl into bed with Patrick as soon as it was over and I like, couldn’t wait. I felt his fangs grazing my neck, but just as he was about to bite, he was ripped away from me. Looking up in shock, I saw Travis, who was like, a really good friend back before he got turned. We didn’t really like see much of each other anymore, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t kill each other. Everyone else was fair game, but like, even in brawls or whatever, we never laid a finger on each other.

“The fuck, dude?” I gasped, as he whispered something I didn’t catch to the vampire which sent him scurrying off down some alleyway.

“Just doing you a favor,” he told me coolly, like it should have been obvious, and I guessed it like, would have been if I hadn’t wanted it.

“Since when do you owe me a favor?”

“Since… I heard about Patrick, alright man, and I feel bad. Dude didn’t deserve that.”

My heart froze, and I barely had any voice when I asked, “It wasn’t you?” I needed to like, know he wouldn’t do that to Patrick, even though I knew by our rules he shouldn’t have; Travis had known Patrick too, they’d worked together.

”No, no man, I just feel bad for him. “

He frowned at me when I asked him to turn me then, make it part of the favor, which made sense, kind of, because it’s probably not a request he gets often or whatever. But like, I needed someone to do it, and I knew Travis, I knew he wouldn’t start shit over it.

I had to like, explain how I wanted to be like Patrick, wanted to be with him forever, and this was the only way. He listened and didn’t interrupt me, although a couple of times he pulled a face, clearly a silent disagreement, but like, I had to convince him so I just kept going.

No matter what I tried, even when I like, begged him, he wouldn’t turn me, wouldn’t even let me go so I could find someone else. He kept saying I’d regret it, Pete would kick my ass, which I totally knew, but Pete would forgive me, he would understand eventually, he would see how happy Patrick was and have to.

He did actually like, smack me, not hard enough to do any damage, but to try and knock some sense into me or something. He seemed to think the vampire I’d chosen was going to like, make me part of his clan, and like, that was something I obviously didn’t want, but I couldn’t understand why that meant he couldn’t turn me himself. He could like, totally do it and then let me go home. Instead he walked me the whole way back to the warehouse; he didn’t like come in or anything, didn’t even come close, but he did stay and watch until I’d gone inside.

When I got in Patrick was the only one there, watching the door in complete silence. He jumped up when I walked in, and like, from the way his eyes were red, and his cheeks still a little damp I could see he’d been crying, and I immediately wanted to go cuddle him, but my plan had like, failed, and I didn't think that was really an option.

“Where did you go?” he asked, coming over, and I thought maybe he was going to like, hug me or something, but instead he stood back slightly, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back.”

“Didn’t you get my note?”

“We thought you’d just gone to the library or something, and then you didn’t come back,” he sighed, obviously frustrated, and it dawned on me that he’d been crying because of _me_ , I’d actually made him cry. It was worse than all the things he’d said to me, all the time apart, to know that I’d actually hurt him that badly. “I didn’t know where you’d gone, or why you hadn’t come back. I thought something had happened, Joe!”

“I wanted to make things right for you.”

“You don’t need to leave!”

“You… I thought if I left I could…” I trailed off, knowing he’d be mad at me, wouldn’t understand why I’d had to do it. “I thought if I got someone to turn me, we could be okay again.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

”I wanted to fix it for you, and this was the only way I could make it so you wouldn’t be scared any more.”

“You didn’t,” he said quietly, it wasn’t a question because he like, already knew the answer to that one. He’d have been able to smell it on me the way Pete had like, smelt him, if my plan had worked. “Pete and Andy are looking for you,” he whispered, “you need to let them know you’re back.”

I couldn’t believe they’d sent out a search party for me, but then again, I guessed I hadn’t really told them enough in my note. But I like, hadn’t expected to be gone so long either, I’d planned to just go, get turned and come back the next night.

Over the phone they seemed just like, insanely glad I was back, but I was sure once they found out what I’d been doing they’d be really fucking pissed off with me. I needed them to understand what I’d been trying to do, but I knew they wouldn’t, even Patrick had thought it stupid, and I was doing it for him. Well, for him and for us, so we could be together and have forever, and he’d never need to be scared because we’d be like, completely safe and happy and everything.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to try it again, it was too risky, I needed to find a vampire I knew who would do it. Travis had been right, the vampire I’d chosen was probably trying to build up his clan or whatever, I’d been like, completely stupid just picking a random guy. I wished Travis had done it for me, it would have like, solved all the problems, because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, we had our deal. Unless maybe turning me counted as hurting me somehow, and then like, he wouldn’t be able to do it because of that. I didn’t really think so though, it seemed kind of stupid when I actually wanted it.

The only other vampires I knew were Patrick and Pete, and like, Pete would kill me for even thinking it, which just left Patrick. I could try and convince him, now he seemed to be talking to me again, but I didn’t know if he’d go for it. He was too scared of hurting me to actually try anything, which is why I’d been looking for a random vampire in the first place. But maybe once I’d told him how perfect it would be he’d come around, maybe when he actually thought about how we’d have like, _forever_ , he’d start to like the idea.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell them,” Patrick said, breaking me out of my thoughts and looking nervously at the door. “You were just being stupid, let’s just forget the whole thing, tell them you were researching or something.”

“I wasn’t just being stupid, dude. I’m trying to fix this, you’ve got to think about it.”

”There’s nothing to think about, you were trying to get yourself _killed_.”

“So you wouldn’t need to be scared about hurting me. I love you like, _so much_ , dude; I can’t do this without you.”

Patrick looked torn for a moment, and then curled his fingers around my wrist, stroking slightly with his thumb. “What if you didn’t need to?”

“You’ve been pushing me away for months, and I totally get it dude, you’re scared, but you won’t need to be once I’ve been like, turned too.”

“No, what if we tried again? We could make it work this time, Joe. I won’t do it again, I promise. We can make this work; you don’t need to get yourself killed first.”

I sighed, and like, I wanted to believe him more than anything, so I just wrapped my arms around him and let him press a dry kiss to where my neck met my shoulder. I knew he must still have been scared, he felt too tense, too ready to fight or flee or whatever and it didn’t feel like anything had changed from the last time we had that conversation. We were still stuck trying to make something work while it like, completely fell apart. I didn’t say anything though, just let him believe we could be okay, even if I couldn’t believe it myself, and promised myself I’d try so hard to make it work. Even if we managed it, it wouldn’t be like, for forever and that just wasn’t enough. One day I was going to die and leave him behind and I couldn’t stand that thought.

Just like Patrick suggested, I told the guys I’d been researching and that I was sorry I’d like, scared them so much. I felt like, completely shitty, about it, and I knew they didn’t buy it fully, but I didn’t know what else to do. I could have told them the truth, but then like, I’d have to try and justify to them and I hadn’t even managed to justify it to Patrick yet. Plus, I knew he didn’t want me to tell them, and like, I didn’t want to upset him when I’d only just got him back again.

He stayed like, really close to me for the rest of the night, curled into my side on the sofa, and it was kind of nice, except I could tell he was terrified, and that just made me feel kind of shitty. It felt kind of like he was doing it just to make us work, and I like, totally appreciated it and all, but it still didn’t feel right. I didn’t want him to hug me because he thought that was like, the right thing to do, I just wanted him to like, want it like he always had before.

It actually wasn’t a lot better than like, when he wasn’t speaking to me. It was nice to have him close and everything, and I was really glad he was trying, but I was kind of just waiting for it to blow up in my face all over again. I kept running over arguments I could use to convince him to turn me, but even as I like, thought them, I knew he could counter pretty much all of them.

I went to bed fairly early, feeling kind of really shitty from not sleeping properly for three nights, and Patrick did actually follow me, carrying his blanket back into our room. I really, really hoped it meant he was going to stay the night, because like, maybe if he did, I thought we could wake up and be okay again and have our early morning time and stop being so weird.

Waking up the next morning was awesome, Patrick hadn’t gone anywhere during the night, and was like, fast asleep, cuddled into my side. I couldn’t help but feel hopeful for us, and looking back, maybe that was a bit of a mistake, but like, I felt like maybe we could work, _really_ make it work. He shuffled slightly in his sleep, and I like, promised myself I’d make it work for us. No matter how awkward it was going to be at first, we’d make it work anyway. We’d been through like, way too much to just give up.

Over the next few days things gradually got back to normal, or as normal as they ever were going to be, and it seems kind of stupid now, because we were just playing a game around each other, and I hadn’t even realized. He’d cuddle up to me, and kiss me and everything just like he always had, and I always managed to ignore the way he’d tense up, or hesitate before we kissed or whatever.

The only time I ever got frustrated was when we stayed in bed all morning and tried to like, make use of the time or whatever. I think Patrick was frustrated with it too, probably more than me, because like he couldn’t do anything anymore. Not now he had no blood. But like, I couldn’t do much either, and like, I think mostly we were going through the motions a lot with it. If it hadn’t been for how much we were pretending everything was normal, I think I would have just taken care of myself instead, because it wasn’t like we got to do a lot more than that anyway. After what happened when we just like, kissed, I really didn’t want to risk those teeth again.

Andy and Pete probably knew something was up with us, but like, they never said anything. I was kind of glad in a way, because we kind of needed to figure out for ourselves that we weren’t working. You can’t like, force something to work just because you want it to, no matter how much that is.

I hadn’t even noticed my birthday coming up until Pete clapped a hand on my shoulder and asked what I wanted. It was late, and Patrick had already fallen asleep, face tucked into my shoulder, he seemed to like doing that, and like, I was just glad he trusted himself enough to. I had like, no idea how much will power it was taking him to keep acting natural around me, I wasn’t even recognizing how scared he was still.

I mumbled, “Surprise me,” and Pete seemed momentarily like, pissed off by my answer, before like, cheering up again and wandering off to the basement, and I hoped that meant he’d gotten some idea or something so he wouldn’t pester me about it right up to the date. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything awesome, Pete was a good friend, but like, amazing presents were not really his thing, especially when he couldn’t go shopping or anything. I never like, minded or at all, birthdays weren’t really all that exciting when we couldn’t like, go out and enjoy ourselves or whatever.

Kissing the top of Patrick’s head, I nudged him awake gently. “C’mon dude, bedtime.”

He mumbled sleepily at me, but took my hand and let me help him up so we could like, go to bed. I wondered if he knew it was my birthday coming up, and if I should remind him, because he’d be pissy if he hadn’t had enough warning to get me a present or whatever. It wasn’t like I needed one, but I knew he’d want to give me something anyway. But like, I didn’t want to remind him, because it felt strange, thinking about how I was a year older, yet he was like, exactly the same as when he was turned. It didn’t feel weird right now, because it was only a few months, but I realized that in a few years he wouldn’t have changed still, yet I’d be completely different. It kind of freaked me out, and I didn’t end up saying anything to him in case he freaked out too, but I did lie awake and think about it for like, ages.

We didn’t bother getting up early on my birthday, I think Patrick knew the mornings were my favorite time so always tried to make sure we could spend as long in bed as possible. I was thinking about what my birthday meant again, about how I’d get old and change and not be the person Patrick fell in love with, but how he’d like, never change with me. As fine as I thought we were at the time, I wasn’t sure we’d be able to make it with all the pressure of me growing old. And then like, I had to face that one day I’d die, and that was just painful, because Patrick wouldn’t, and then he’d be left behind and I really, really didn’t want to do that to him.

I wanted forever with him, and I was really hoping he’d want the same thing. But like, the only way we could have that is if I was turned too, and as much as I’d promised myself I wouldn’t think about it, I couldn’t stop. It was the best solution I could see, but he wasn’t buying it, and I couldn’t see what would be so horrible about it if it meant we could be together.

He was only slightly awake, and nuzzling against my cheek slightly, and I felt kind of bad starting the conversation when he’d only just woken up, but it was like something we had to do in private and I didn’t want to leave it any longer to like, wait for the evening, or whatever. To be honest, I was kind of afraid I’d chicken out or something, not because I was like, scared of being turned, but because I was seriously nervous about how he was going to react to the suggestion.

“I’m getting older…” I whispered, and he made a soft noise of agreement to let me know he was listening. He didn’t have like, any idea where I was going with it. “You’re like, not though.”

“What?”

“You’re not getting older, but I am. Don’t you wonder about in ten years when you’re still you but I’m not?” I stroked down his cheek, it was still so strange to think this is what I could have forever, he’d never change and I could like, be there with him.

Patrick snorted, “You’ll still be _you_ , dude, just older.”

“But you won’t be, and that’ll be like, _seriously_ weird.”

“I think we’ve already done more than our fair share of weird.”

“I just don’t want to get old without you, I want us to have forever.”

“I’m not going to disappear the second you get old, Joe,” he laughed, poking me playfully in the stomach.

“No, but like, I _am_.”

He lifted himself up on one elbow, narrowing his eyes at me slightly, “I thought you said you weren’t going to leave any more.”

“Not leave…”

“Joe?” He sounded worried, and I couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured it out, but then again, maybe he was just ignoring it. There were a lot of things we ignored just to hold everything together.

“You can’t die; you’re already dead, kind of. But like, I’m going to get old and die and I don’t want to leave you behind.”

He wrapped his arms around me kissing my shoulder, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do.”

“No, you really, really don’t.”

“Why won’t you do it? What’s so bad about it if it means we can be together?”

“We are together.”

“Forever.”

He froze, looking at me for what felt like ages, and I could see I’d gotten him, even if he was still trying to remain firm. Forever sounded just as good to him as it did to me and like, I knew it wouldn’t take much to fully convince him.

“Don’t you want that?” I tried, stroking his arm. “I like, seriously want this Patrick.”

He pulled back, looking torn, “I… I’d have to _kill_ you, Joe.”

“It’s not how it sounds, though, I’d still be here.”

“You’d be dead…”

“Like you, forever. C’mon, dude, tell me you don’t want it.” He looked away, and I knew he couldn’t say it.

“I love you; I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t be, you’d be making things better.”

“I do want us to work,” he admitted, cuddling closer to me again.

I didn’t answer him, afraid of pushing him too far and scaring him off the idea again, instead I just stayed quiet and let himself think it over, persuade himself. Finally he seemed to settle on a decision, but instead he just kissed me softly, whispering, “Give me a few days, okay?” It sounded kind of like ‘I’ll do it – just give me time to get my head around it’ but I couldn’t be sure.

Whatever he meant, I nodded, letting him curl back close to me, resting his head on my chest and it was weird to think he was probably like, listening to my heartbeat. I didn’t want to pressure him to go too fast or anything, and a few more days weren’t going to hurt anyone, or anything.

“What’s it like?” I murmured, suddenly feeling quite nervous about the whole thing. I had like, no idea what it was going to be like, I’d never ever ask Pete, he’d get too pissy about it, but I’d never asked Patrick either, mostly just because I’d hated all the reminders that he wasn’t human anymore.

“What?”

“Being turned, what’s it like?”

“Joe…” he pulled back, sitting up beside me.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I assured him, “I just want to like, know.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and I knew that just meant he didn’t want to say. “It was weird, I didn’t know what was happening, except I _knew_ , and I was scared.”

“Did it hurt?”

“I… I think so. I mean, yeah. But I’ll… I’ll try to make it okay for you, but it’s kind of gonna suck.” He laughed nervously, even though it wasn’t at all funny, just a nervous habit he’d never shaken. It was kind of reassuring, in a weird way, like this was still my Patrick, and I didn’t have to be scared of anything he was going to do.

I dropped the issue; let him have his time to think it through and get his head around what he was doing. I tried not to think about it or anything, but that was really kind of difficult and like, I really just wanted him to do it already. I wasn’t so much scared or anything, because it was Patrick, but I did feel slightly nervous still and like, I just wanted it done so he couldn’t change his mind and refuse.

It took him four days, but finally, when we’d just gone into the bedroom, he brought it up again. Pete and Andy had already gone to bed, and like, I was taking my jeans off to get into bed, but he was still fully dressed, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt.

“Do you still want to?” he asked nervously, watching as I dumped my dirty clothes in the wash basket, “I don’t mind if you’ve changed your mind.”

Smiling at him, I moved over and wrapped my arms around him. “Of course I do.”

I knew I was asking a lot of him, turning me would make him a full vampire, but I was willing to do the same, and now we’d found out there wasn’t a cure being half didn’t mean anything. If there had been a cure, _anything_ to help him I wouldn’t have dreamt of asking him, would have just kept searching.

“Okay,” he whispered, wiping his hands on his jeans, another nervous habit. “I guess, like, maybe lie down? It’ll probably be easier.”

He pulled the covers back for me, leaving them at the bottom of the bed, so I could lie back against the pillows. He still hadn’t even taken his jacket off and I just felt kind of uncomfortable, when he moved back up to me, I tugged at the hem of it, “Take this off?”

He shrugged out of the jacket, throwing it on the floor beside the bed, and for once I didn’t like, move to pick it up for him, just lay there waiting. He shifted again, so he had a knee on either side of my thighs, and smiled awkwardly at me.

“You can still say no…”

“I like, really don’t want to.”

“I love you, you know that right?”

“I love you, too.”

“This is going to – you’re going to _die_ , but like, I promise you won’t be out long and I’ll be here. I won’t leave you alone.”

It struck me that I’d left him alone, he’d done this on some dirty street with a stranger and I’d left him alone, he’d probably come around and not known what was going on fully and like, been scared and god, I wished I could have been there for him.

He leaned down, first pressing a dry kiss to my neck, and then I could feel him bear his fangs a little bit, feel it as they just barely grazed over my skin. It was so weird, we’d never even come close to anything like that before, and like, my whole body felt hot and prickly all over like it had before when he’d been thinking about biting me.

He didn’t ask if I was okay again, just pulled back briefly to give me one last kiss, before ducking his head back down to my neck. It hurt, I knew it was going to hurt, and like, I could feel his teeth in me, feel him sucking out my blood and it was just like, _so fucking weird_.

Just when I thought I couldn’t live, couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, he pulled back, licking at my skin a little bit, and I was mostly too out of it to pay that much attention, but I know he like, whispered _I love you_ , and I tried so hard to say it back, but my tongue felt thick in my mouth and I just couldn’t manage it. Then he like, cut himself so I could drink from him too and I remember the copper in my mouth and how it was just like every time I’d cut my lip or whatever, just _copper_ flooding my mouth, but his arm was pressed against me, and it still registered as weird.

But not so much as actually _dying_ did. Like, so fucking weird to die and then like, be able to tell the story. He was true to his word though, and when I woke up, feeling disoriented and slightly confused, he was still there, knelt beside me, watching intently. I felt weird, which is like, totally as descriptive as is possible about the whole fucking experience, just really, really _weird_ , and I reached for his wrist, just to like, give myself some contact. I couldn’t believe he’d actually _done it_ ; we had forever, we had everything.

He tugged at me until I was lying down, cuddling close to me, “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back,” he murmured, and I noticed he was shaking slightly, his face damp like he’d been crying while I was out. “You were gone so long, I thought maybe I’d done it wrong, that I’d lost you.”

I wrapped an arm around him, hating that I’d done that to him, even if it had been worth it. “It’s okay, you didn’t, I’m okay. We’ve got forever now.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, sounding a little bit awed, “forever.”

-

-

  
 _For a while things were okay. Pete and Andy were suitably unimpressed when they woke up to discover Patrick had turned Joe. Andy had taken it how he took most things, quietly angry with them, and then relieving his frustrations through training. Pete on the other hand, was much more visibly angry, he seemed to take it as a personal insult to his suffering that Joe would choose to be like him. He’d yelled at Patrick for a long time about throwing away his chance of getting cured on turning Joe too, and then yelled at Joe for it too. Patrick had never told him, never told any of them, that there wasn’t a cure to find, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to break their spirits like that. In fact, he’d only told Joe to save him from wasting his time, getting his heart set on something there wasn’t, and it hadn’t worked anyway. Pete needed the cure, needed a mission to keep him going, and he wasn’t going to take that away from him. Even then he couldn’t bring himself to tell Pete, it was easier to let him think there was something to keep fighting for, kinder really._

 _They’d come around eventually, and the group had fallen into a weird little routine that became normal to them. They didn’t go out hunting so much, not unless they were drawn into the brawls while they were out for other reasons. The nights they didn’t have to they’d stay in the warehouse, often digging out their instruments and playing. Slowly Patrick found Pete slipping lyrics under his door just after sunset, before he’d even gotten out of bed. Joe never let him go for them straight away, insisting they still got their lie in before he temporarily lost Patrick to the music. He was always joking though, arms wrapped around Patrick, lips pressed to his shoulder. Unlike before, he never pretended they were human, never needed to, just enjoyed the mornings together in their new life. Similar to the old one, but different too, always caught up on how it was forever._

 _They never got to see daylight, or eat anything but the blend, which did really suck, even though the blend was nicer than any real food Patrick had ever managed to cook. They missed feeling warmth at times, and it could get frustrating to be unable to get past kissing, but ultimately neither of them minded if that was what made it okay again._

 _By the time spring began to come around they were well and truly settled down and content with how things had worked out. The prospect of forever was still exciting, but it had become a default, something they were confident and glad they had rather than something they desperately wanted._

 _The brawls were decreasing again, so the night s they went out to fight were rarer and rarer. Privately, Patrick and Joe wondered about a time when they wouldn’t have to hunt vampires anymore, when they could just retire and live out their forever in a quiet life, but that would be years off, once Pete had gotten his revenge, felt satisfied enough to stop. If he ever did. Sometimes it felt like they’d kill vampires forever, because no matter how high the death toll there were always new ones, always more to fight._

 _They went out weekly to get supplies for the blend and food for Andy, shopping together not long after dark. Some of the ingredients for the blend were obscure and needed Andy to go out during the day, but mostly they could get everything they needed. Walking back, they never risked holding hands, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and start trouble, but they always walked close enough that their arms bumped together every now and again._

 _It wasn’t a night they’d expected to go hunting, and they’d only been popping out for bread and some garlic, so they hadn’t carried any weapons with them. They were almost home when the attack occurred; two hunters pounced on them from out of a dark alley. They both immediately flicked into defense mode, trying to predict their moves and counter them. They’d both been vampires long enough to have the hang of their bodies, but the hunters were insanely skilled, and even though they knew a lot of hunter moves, they couldn’t keep it up for long._

 _Joe saw out of his eye the movement of the stake towards Patrick’s chest, saw that Patrick wasn’t going to be able to defend himself quickly enough, and the painful scramble to get to him, to push past the hunter currently fighting him to try and save Patrick was all he could think of. It felt like the hunter was going in slow motion, but he was too, and he still couldn’t get free in time. There was a painful split second afterwards, where they both looked at each other and realized that after months and months it was finally over. They’d fought so hard to make things work, and even though it had finally felt like they’d won the battle, they’d lost the war._

 _"No, no, no, no,” he whispered, in complete disbelief of what was in front of him. He didn’t cry, too shocked, but it was close; he could barely hold himself together, and he pushed past the hunters to Patrick. He was gasping for breath, struggling to keep breathing and Joe just desperately wanted to get to him and pull the stake out, try to save him, even though he knew it wouldn’t work. It was too late, however little he wanted to accept that. The grief on his face had caught them by surprise, they’d never seen a vampire show remorse, not even at losing a fellow vampire, so he didn’t find it difficult._

 _Next to Patrick’s body, he dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He pulled him onto his lap, cradling his body. Patrick was still coughing wetly, and Joe’s fingers itched for the stake, but he was worried it would make things worse, more painful for Patick. He felt so useless, like he had the day he’d realized there was no cure, he wanted to fix it, to make it fine for Patrick._

 _Anxious for reassurance, and to comfort Joe, Patrick tried to reach for his hand, just barely managing to brush his fingers against Joe’s wrist. But it was enough to get Joe to shift their hands together, squeezing his tightly and feeling Patrick fight to squeeze back._

 _“Why?” he choked once Patrick had finally stilled in his arms, “We were on your side!” The hunter looked at him, and ducked his head in remorse. With the enormity of what he had lost sinking in, his eyes welled up with tears. Without Patrick he had nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. There was no point in him having forever if the one person he wanted to spend it with wasn’t going to be around. He reached out a hand to stroke Patrick’s cheek, closing his eyes for him; he thought he’d seen the worst when Patrick had come back dead, but this was a million times worse than that, not least because he wouldn’t come back this time._

 _One of the hunters had backed off, clearly feeling guilty, but the other didn’t make any move towards him either, still shocked by the way he was reacting, and once he’d leaned down to gently kiss Patrick’s forehead, brushing his hair back, he stared at him. “Well, what are you waiting for?”_

 _It seemed to snap him out of their stupor, and he rushed forward, clearly expecting some kind of fight, but Joe didn’t have it in him anymore. He got him quickly, and for the split second afterwards it was blinding pain, nothing like dying had been like when he’d been turned, and then there wasn’t anything at all._

 _Pete and Andy buried them the next night, in a small clearing in woodland about an hour from the warehouse, far from any churches or consecrated land. It had been painful to carry their bodies back home, but they hadn’t wanted anyone getting any ideas and taking them, wanted to give their friends a proper burial, even if that wasn’t really suitable for vampires. Pete didn’t say anything the entire time they dug the hole, it seemed only right to bury them together. The priest was there, mumbling a prayer for their souls, and watching as they carefully lowered them into the ground, one by one._

 _He didn’t say a word when they were patting the earth down, or placing the rock in the form of a makeshift gravestone, or driving back to the warehouse. As soon as they got back he locked himself in the basement, and Andy sat down on the sofa, not even feeling up to training. Patrick’s guitar was propped up against his workbench, papers spread out on the top with notes and lyrics hastily scribbled down across them. He’d been working on the song before they’d gone to the shop, thinking he’d be back in fifteen minutes to finish it off._

 _There was a feeling that maybe they should get rid of everything, strip the warehouse bare until no reminder existed of all that they’d lost. That maybe staying in the warehouse wasn’t right either, that they should leave, find a new city, somewhere without the history, settle down, keep low and try to live ordinary lives. But it felt wrong at the same time, they’d been happy here at some points, faced too much together on the streets to just pack their bags._

 _They barely kept fighting, even when they were provoked they tried to avoid it, killing any damn vampire they came across just didn’t feel right anymore. Patrick and Joe had been like good guys in monsters bodies, and they didn’t know how many other vampires out there were like that, who they’d be killing. They always felt strangely unprotected as a duo, but never able to face the idea of finding replacements. They’d never even found anyone to seriously take Dirty’s place, just occasional help here and there. No one who wanted to stick around, or who they wanted to keep around. You couldn’t replace a friend, anyway, only fill their space. But being mid-fight, or sat in the warehouse and looking over at people who weren’t Patrick and Joe wasn’t worth thinking about._

 _They were drawn into a fight with the Dandies about three months after they’d found the bodies lying in the street, surrounded by people desperately checking if it was their loved ones, and they’d been out looking for the guys but never expected to find them like that. It was totally unexpected that not only did they manage to get the upper hand in the fight, but that when Pete threw himself at Beckett, stake in hand, he actually managed to plunge it into his chest._

 _There was a strange and immediate pain he couldn’t pin down, which actually felt a lot like dying had when he’d been turned, and then before he’d fully had a chance to consider this he passed out, slumped on the floor. Andy had rushed over, shifting him, trying to make him more comfortable in the hope that he’d wake up and it’d matter. He was just considering the possibility that he’d lost the last friend he had when Pete gasped, reaching out a hand and pulling himself up on Andy’s t-shirt._

 _“That,” Pete gasped when he finally managed to sit up, “that was fucking nasty.”_

 _“What the fuck was it?” He’d already mostly figured it out, but if Pete knew it warranted sharing._

 _“Dying, or like, undying, kind of. I guess.” Pete frowned, running his tongue across his teeth, trying to get used to the lack of fangs._

 _“So, you’re human again?”_

 _“Looks like.” He said quietly, and they both knew he was thinking of Patrick, thinking of the fight Patrick never got a chance to have, of the undeath he would never get._

 _A week after he undied, Pete began stripping the house of unnecessary things, reminders of the past year and what he’d had to become. Now he was human, they’d stopped the fight, it hadn’t felt right. Once they’d killed Beckett there wasn’t anything left to fight for, and no one seemed to care about them enough to come after them either. It still hadn’t been long enough after Patrick and Joe’s deaths that he didn’t walk past their door and expect them to be cuddled up in bed chatting away, still knocked on the door and said “hey guys, you know what I just -” and then realized they weren’t there to hear him._

 _He pulled down Patrick’s notebooks from the shelf, preparing to throw them on the bonfire along with all the other painful reminders, when he paused. He still didn’t understand why they’d done it, why Patrick had decided to turn Joe, or why Joe had wanted it. He’d spent so long trying to cure Patrick, insisting he’d fix it, so it made no sense to go fuck it up by making Patrick drink blood. He didn’t know why sometimes he couldn’t get it out of his head, he knew he should remember his friends for how they were before all this shit happened. Remember them for how they were when they were making music, when they were doing what they loved. But he still didn’t know and he begrudged that, maybe more than he should, but at the same time he felt like they were his best friends, didn’t that give him a right to understand?_

 _The green notebook was Patrick’s; he knew that, the one where he’d carefully documented his own case of vampirism. There wasn’t one for Joe, at least not one that he’d seen, and he wasn’t sure what that meant, but in any case he pushed that aside for later. Adding the blue one Patrick had picked for the cure as well, he was determined to get to the bottom of it, to work out what went on in Patrick’s head._

 _He shoved the rest of them into the bin he was using to collect the stuff for the bonfire they were going to have, and carried on through the warehouse to find all the other stuff. Once he was satisfied the warehouse was sufficiently clear of vampire-related debris, he turned his attention back to the notebooks he’d left._

 _He read them both cover to cover, and gradually things made a lot more sense. Patrick had given up on a cure, and he felt a little bubble of anger in his chest about that, because no one had ever said anything to him, but apparently Joe had discovered it too. There were a lot of entries in the few days leading up to when Joe had appeared a vampire, where Patrick had been confused and trying to figure out what to do. One thing stood out in particular, the fact that they’d have forever. It seemed to be their main arguing point, and Pete shook his head._

 _As he was about to throw the notebook in the trash as well, a Polaroid slipped out of the back, even on the floor he recognized it as something he’d seen in Joe’s wallet years ago. Picking it up, he put it back onto the bench, not sure he really wanted to be looking at it for too long then threw the notebooks into the trash with all the force he could manage, which was admittedly kind of a lot weaker than he’d gotten used to._

 _It was a few days before they actually went to the woods, taking what felt like ages to find the grave. The stone was still there, marking the site, and they both lay some flowers they’d picked next to it. They hadn’t been back since that night they’d buried them, and it felt weird to be there in the middle of the day, with the sun shining clearly down on them through the trees._

 _“I wish you’d told me, fucker,” Pete told the ground, “I wish you told me you’d given up on a cure because then I could have smacked some sense into you, kind of.”_

 _Just as they were leaving he turned around to give the grave one last look. They wouldn’t be back here often, he knew that, but he didn’t really need it to remember his friends. He’d avoided the Polaroid for a long time, before slipping it into the back of his wallet, hidden by other pictures and cards. Quietly, he raised a hand in a faint goodbye and murmured:_

 _“I hope you’ve gotten your forever.”_


	3. Fic: In Love and Death (Joe/Patrick, R, 3/3)

_  
**Fic: In Love and Death (Joe/Patrick, R, 3/3)**   
_   
  


-

  
 _For a while things were okay. Pete and Andy were suitably unimpressed when they woke up to discover Patrick had turned Joe. Andy had taken it how he took most things, quietly angry with them, and then relieving his frustrations through training. Pete on the other hand, was much more visibly angry, he seemed to take it as a personal insult to his suffering that Joe would choose to be like him. He’d yelled at Patrick for a long time about throwing away his chance of getting cured on turning Joe too, and then yelled at Joe for it too. Patrick had never told him, never told any of them, that there wasn’t a cure to find, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to break their spirits like that. In fact, he’d only told Joe to save him from wasting his time, getting his heart set on something there wasn’t, and it hadn’t worked anyway. Pete needed the cure, needed a mission to keep him going, and he wasn’t going to take that away from him. Even then he couldn’t bring himself to tell Pete, it was easier to let him think there was something to keep fighting for, kinder really._

 _They’d come around eventually, and the group had fallen into a weird little routine that became normal to them. They didn’t go out hunting so much, not unless they were drawn into the brawls while they were out for other reasons. The nights they didn’t have to they’d stay in the warehouse, often digging out their instruments and playing. Slowly Patrick found Pete slipping lyrics under his door just after sunset, before he’d even gotten out of bed. Joe never let him go for them straight away, insisting they still got their lie in before he temporarily lost Patrick to the music. He was always joking though, arms wrapped around Patrick, lips pressed to his shoulder. Unlike before, he never pretended they were human, never needed to, just enjoyed the mornings together in their new life. Similar to the old one, but different too, always caught up on how it was forever._

 _They never got to see daylight, or eat anything but the blend, which did really suck, even though the blend was nicer than any real food Patrick had ever managed to cook. They missed feeling warmth at times, and it could get frustrating to be unable to get past kissing, but ultimately neither of them minded if that was what made it okay again._

 _By the time spring began to come around they were well and truly settled down and content with how things had worked out. The prospect of forever was still exciting, but it had become a default, something they were confident and glad they had rather than something they desperately wanted._

 _The brawls were decreasing again, so the night s they went out to fight were rarer and rarer. Privately, Patrick and Joe wondered about a time when they wouldn’t have to hunt vampires anymore, when they could just retire and live out their forever in a quiet life, but that would be years off, once Pete had gotten his revenge, felt satisfied enough to stop. If he ever did. Sometimes it felt like they’d kill vampires forever, because no matter how high the death toll there were always new ones, always more to fight._

 _They went out weekly to get supplies for the blend and food for Andy, shopping together not long after dark. Some of the ingredients for the blend were obscure and needed Andy to go out during the day, but mostly they could get everything they needed. Walking back, they never risked holding hands, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and start trouble, but they always walked close enough that their arms bumped together every now and again._

 _It wasn’t a night they’d expected to go hunting, and they’d only been popping out for bread and some garlic, so they hadn’t carried any weapons with them. They were almost home when the attack occurred; two hunters pounced on them from out of a dark alley. They both immediately flicked into defense mode, trying to predict their moves and counter them. They’d both been vampires long enough to have the hang of their bodies, but the hunters were insanely skilled, and even though they knew a lot of hunter moves, they couldn’t keep it up for long._

 _Joe saw out of his eye the movement of the stake towards Patrick’s chest, saw that Patrick wasn’t going to be able to defend himself quickly enough, and the painful scramble to get to him, to push past the hunter currently fighting him to try and save Patrick was all he could think of. It felt like the hunter was going in slow motion, but he was too, and he still couldn’t get free in time. There was a painful split second afterwards, where they both looked at each other and realized that after months and months it was finally over. They’d fought so hard to make things work, and even though it had finally felt like they’d won the battle, they’d lost the war._

 _"No, no, no, no,” he whispered, in complete disbelief of what was in front of him. He didn’t cry, too shocked, but it was close; he could barely hold himself together, and he pushed past the hunters to Patrick. He was gasping for breath, struggling to keep breathing and Joe just desperately wanted to get to him and pull the stake out, try to save him, even though he knew it wouldn’t work. It was too late, however little he wanted to accept that. The grief on his face had caught them by surprise, they’d never seen a vampire show remorse, not even at losing a fellow vampire, so he didn’t find it difficult._

 _Next to Patrick’s body, he dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He pulled him onto his lap, cradling his body. Patrick was still coughing wetly, and Joe’s fingers itched for the stake, but he was worried it would make things worse, more painful for Patick. He felt so useless, like he had the day he’d realized there was no cure, he wanted to fix it, to make it fine for Patrick._

 _Anxious for reassurance, and to comfort Joe, Patrick tried to reach for his hand, just barely managing to brush his fingers against Joe’s wrist. But it was enough to get Joe to shift their hands together, squeezing his tightly and feeling Patrick fight to squeeze back._

 _“Why?” he choked once Patrick had finally stilled in his arms, “We were on your side!” The hunter looked at him, and ducked his head in remorse. With the enormity of what he had lost sinking in, his eyes welled up with tears. Without Patrick he had nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. There was no point in him having forever if the one person he wanted to spend it with wasn’t going to be around. He reached out a hand to stroke Patrick’s cheek, closing his eyes for him; he thought he’d seen the worst when Patrick had come back dead, but this was a million times worse than that, not least because he wouldn’t come back this time._

 _One of the hunters had backed off, clearly feeling guilty, but the other didn’t make any move towards him either, still shocked by the way he was reacting, and once he’d leaned down to gently kiss Patrick’s forehead, brushing his hair back, he stared at him. “Well, what are you waiting for?”_

 _It seemed to snap him out of their stupor, and he rushed forward, clearly expecting some kind of fight, but Joe didn’t have it in him anymore. He got him quickly, and for the split second afterwards it was blinding pain, nothing like dying had been like when he’d been turned, and then there wasn’t anything at all._

 _Pete and Andy buried them the next night, in a small clearing in woodland about an hour from the warehouse, far from any churches or consecrated land. It had been painful to carry their bodies back home, but they hadn’t wanted anyone getting any ideas and taking them, wanted to give their friends a proper burial, even if that wasn’t really suitable for vampires. Pete didn’t say anything the entire time they dug the hole, it seemed only right to bury them together. The priest was there, mumbling a prayer for their souls, and watching as they carefully lowered them into the ground, one by one._

 _He didn’t say a word when they were patting the earth down, or placing the rock in the form of a makeshift gravestone, or driving back to the warehouse. As soon as they got back he locked himself in the basement, and Andy sat down on the sofa, not even feeling up to training. Patrick’s guitar was propped up against his workbench, papers spread out on the top with notes and lyrics hastily scribbled down across them. He’d been working on the song before they’d gone to the shop, thinking he’d be back in fifteen minutes to finish it off._

 _There was a feeling that maybe they should get rid of everything, strip the warehouse bare until no reminder existed of all that they’d lost. That maybe staying in the warehouse wasn’t right either, that they should leave, find a new city, somewhere without the history, settle down, keep low and try to live ordinary lives. But it felt wrong at the same time, they’d been happy here at some points, faced too much together on the streets to just pack their bags._

 _They barely kept fighting, even when they were provoked they tried to avoid it, killing any damn vampire they came across just didn’t feel right anymore. Patrick and Joe had been like good guys in monsters bodies, and they didn’t know how many other vampires out there were like that, who they’d be killing. They always felt strangely unprotected as a duo, but never able to face the idea of finding replacements. They’d never even found anyone to seriously take Dirty’s place, just occasional help here and there. No one who wanted to stick around, or who they wanted to keep around. You couldn’t replace a friend, anyway, only fill their space. But being mid-fight, or sat in the warehouse and looking over at people who weren’t Patrick and Joe wasn’t worth thinking about._

 _They were drawn into a fight with the Dandies about three months after they’d found the bodies lying in the street, surrounded by people desperately checking if it was their loved ones, and they’d been out looking for the guys but never expected to find them like that. It was totally unexpected that not only did they manage to get the upper hand in the fight, but that when Pete threw himself at Beckett, stake in hand, he actually managed to plunge it into his chest._

 _There was a strange and immediate pain he couldn’t pin down, which actually felt a lot like dying had when he’d been turned, and then before he’d fully had a chance to consider this he passed out, slumped on the floor. Andy had rushed over, shifting him, trying to make him more comfortable in the hope that he’d wake up and it’d matter. He was just considering the possibility that he’d lost the last friend he had when Pete gasped, reaching out a hand and pulling himself up on Andy’s t-shirt._

 _“That,” Pete gasped when he finally managed to sit up, “that was fucking nasty.”_

 _“What the fuck was it?” He’d already mostly figured it out, but if Pete knew it warranted sharing._

 _“Dying, or like, undying, kind of. I guess.” Pete frowned, running his tongue across his teeth, trying to get used to the lack of fangs._

 _“So, you’re human again?”_

 _“Looks like.” He said quietly, and they both knew he was thinking of Patrick, thinking of the fight Patrick never got a chance to have, of the undeath he would never get._

 _A week after he undied, Pete began stripping the house of unnecessary things, reminders of the past year and what he’d had to become. Now he was human, they’d stopped the fight, it hadn’t felt right. Once they’d killed Beckett there wasn’t anything left to fight for, and no one seemed to care about them enough to come after them either. It still hadn’t been long enough after Patrick and Joe’s deaths that he didn’t walk past their door and expect them to be cuddled up in bed chatting away, still knocked on the door and said “hey guys, you know what I just -” and then realized they weren’t there to hear him._

 _He pulled down Patrick’s notebooks from the shelf, preparing to throw them on the bonfire along with all the other painful reminders, when he paused. He still didn’t understand why they’d done it, why Patrick had decided to turn Joe, or why Joe had wanted it. He’d spent so long trying to cure Patrick, insisting he’d fix it, so it made no sense to go fuck it up by making Patrick drink blood. He didn’t know why sometimes he couldn’t get it out of his head, he knew he should remember his friends for how they were before all this shit happened. Remember them for how they were when they were making music, when they were doing what they loved. But he still didn’t know and he begrudged that, maybe more than he should, but at the same time he felt like they were his best friends, didn’t that give him a right to understand?_

 _The green notebook was Patrick’s; he knew that, the one where he’d carefully documented his own case of vampirism. There wasn’t one for Joe, at least not one that he’d seen, and he wasn’t sure what that meant, but in any case he pushed that aside for later. Adding the blue one Patrick had picked for the cure as well, he was determined to get to the bottom of it, to work out what went on in Patrick’s head._

 _He shoved the rest of them into the bin he was using to collect the stuff for the bonfire they were going to have, and carried on through the warehouse to find all the other stuff. Once he was satisfied the warehouse was sufficiently clear of vampire-related debris, he turned his attention back to the notebooks he’d left._

 _He read them both cover to cover, and gradually things made a lot more sense. Patrick had given up on a cure, and he felt a little bubble of anger in his chest about that, because no one had ever said anything to him, but apparently Joe had discovered it too. There were a lot of entries in the few days leading up to when Joe had appeared a vampire, where Patrick had been confused and trying to figure out what to do. One thing stood out in particular, the fact that they’d have forever. It seemed to be their main arguing point, and Pete shook his head._

 _As he was about to throw the notebook in the trash as well, a Polaroid slipped out of the back, even on the floor he recognized it as something he’d seen in Joe’s wallet years ago. Picking it up, he put it back onto the bench, not sure he really wanted to be looking at it for too long then threw the notebooks into the trash with all the force he could manage, which was admittedly kind of a lot weaker than he’d gotten used to._

 _It was a few days before they actually went to the woods, taking what felt like ages to find the grave. The stone was still there, marking the site, and they both lay some flowers they’d picked next to it. They hadn’t been back since that night they’d buried them, and it felt weird to be there in the middle of the day, with the sun shining clearly down on them through the trees._

 _“I wish you’d told me, fucker,” Pete told the ground, “I wish you told me you’d given up on a cure because then I could have smacked some sense into you, kind of.”_

 _Just as they were leaving he turned around to give the grave one last look. They wouldn’t be back here often, he knew that, but he didn’t really need it to remember his friends. He’d avoided the Polaroid for a long time, before slipping it into the back of his wallet, hidden by other pictures and cards. Quietly, he raised a hand in a faint goodbye and murmured:_

 _“I hope you’ve gotten your forever.”_

  
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